


The Witching Hour

by ChexLeMeneux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Art by Yours Truly, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Dean Winchester, Chosen One cliche, Eventual Destiel I guess, F/F, F/M, Humor, Inspired by Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Lots of Mythology, Lots of witches - Freeform, Relatively Dark, Sorta Serious, Supernatural - Freeform, Total AU - only witches demons and vamps, Witchcraft, Woman's World sorta, chapters get longer further into the story, girl!Cas, lots of latin, not much translation, witch!cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:44:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 73,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChexLeMeneux/pseuds/ChexLeMeneux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THIS STORY IS FINISHED, IT DID NOT RECEIVE THE ATTENTION I BELIEVE IT DESERVES, SO I QUIT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I slapped together this okay story. I've wanted to do a clash of clans story for awhile. Battle of the Winchester's and the...Other's? Anyway, check it out, tell me what needs to be tweaked, I may do art at the beginning of every chapter, I may not. Tell me if y'all want it!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. This story was inspired by the episodes where Tara Maclay died and Willow Rosenberg went all Dark Phoenix on us dudes, I hope this measures up or is at least be as interesting.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/enthrall_me_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=203975859)

She’s running, her bare feet hitting the pavement. Panting, she can barely catch her breath. Ducking down an alley—BANG, BANG—she hears two shots ring out, hitting the wall, inches from where she was just standing. Running, she keeps moving, taking twists and turns down this long alley. She’s nearing the end when—bam! She runs into the solid chest of the man chasing her, still panting, her feet now bleeding. Before he can raise his gun, she speaks the dead language.

“Baccus, hear my words…obscura visione, modo in memoriam eius. Nunc!” She invokes, voice raspy, fingers outstretched towards his face. She feels a tug in her gut, this tightening and then a painful cramp. She sinks to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut from the pain. Then they snap open from a surge of power, her pupils enveloping her scleras in onyx.

“AHH!!” they scream in tandem, both falling to the ground in. She rises before the man does, unsteady on her feet, nose bleeding, and body shaking… buzzing with little residues of power. She soon hears the pounding of boots coming down the alley, at least two people. And soon she sees them, two boys with guns for her.

“What the hell have you done, you sunuva bitch?!” The older boy says, voice deep…raspy, green eyes angry. She stands there, frozen in place; silent.

“Answer me, bitch!” He shouts and the younger boy slowly creeps over to the older man, checking his pulse.

“He’s alive, Dean. But he’s out cold,” The younger boy says, voice full of worry. The older boy gets distracted for just a moment, and that’s when she strikes.

“Adhuc,” she says weakly, waving her hand at them both. And their movement ceases instantly, but more blood drips from her nose, and she has a metallic taste on the back of her tongue. Her body is aching, but she takes her chance, as they are slowly beginning to move, and runs away into the night.

...

By the time she makes it home, she’s collapsing on the doorstep, barely hitting the doorbell on her way down. It’s late now since it took her a couple of hours to limp back home, each step more draining than the last. Before she succumbs to unconsciousness, she sees her mother reaching down to gather her up.

“Castielle, what happened, baby? Did it work?” Naomi asks with her eyes wide, heart racing. With all her strength, she whispers in her mother’s ear.

“H-Hunters…Meghan...” She says, trembling with fear, then soon the darkness takes her vision; sleep finds her. Hearing her daughter, struck with such terror… Her eyes flash crimson from her fury, and in the distance, lightning strikes across the clear night sky.

...

When Castielle awakes, she wakes in her bed; surrounded by her loved ones. She immediately senses the tension, she actually sees the tension. Around her mother and two siblings, there’s an aura. All of their auras are different variants of the color red. The tension is thick in the air, nearly palpable. Her youngest brother is the first to question her.

“Cassie, what happened? You’re hurt.” Samandriel says, crawling on the bed to hug her tightly.

“I…I was attacked, but I’m okay Andy. Really,” She says, hugging him with equal sincerity. She sees the aura around her baby brother change, now becoming a transparent white; nearly fading away.

“This is what happens when you practice magic in the open, kids,” Naomi states, arms folded. Her aura begins to change as well, fading to an emerald-green. Suddenly, Castielle is stricken with feeling… her aches seem to ease.

“I could’ve healed myself, you know.” She says, folding her arms. Naomi only shrugs, picking up little Anna and holding her close.

“It’s time for bed guys, you got to see her wake up, let’s go,” Naomi says, and Samandriel follows along.

“Night, Cassie.” He says tiredly.

After they leave the room, Castielle reaches under her bed for a spell kit. She quickly slaps together a healing spell, adding her blood to the mix. Her strength is quickly restored, she is temporarily strengthened. Taking off her bloodied clothing, she changes into something darker. Once she's checked to see that her mother is fast asleep, she sets off into the night.

...

“What the fuck Sammy? What the fuck?!” Dean shouts, pacing back and forth in their motel room. Sam is as dumbfounded as Dean is, maybe even more since he’s the brain in this brawny-ass family. John just stares at Dean silently, following him back and forth with his eyes.

“How do we fucking fix him? Think asshole!” Dean yells, looking enraged and anxious; focusing his pain and confusion on Sam.

“Look jerk, I don’t know! Maybe…maybe that girl did this!” Sam says, earning a glare from his older brother.

“Bitch, it’s obvious that she did this. He was fine before he chased her, he knows better than to chase someone alone.” Dean says, collapsing in an armchair.

“Um…are you boys gonna tell me my name, or not?” John asks innocently, looking to both boys for a little help.

“John Henry Winchester, your 42, and you're our father.” Sam answers, rolling his eyes when John only nods.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this Sam, it fucking wasn’t,” Dean says, shaking his head.

**_Earlier That Night…_ **

“I think I see her, boys,” John says, looking through the window of Starbucks. It’s after hours, way after hours and there’s a girl inside. Coming to take a look, Sam and Dean see her…and he’s shocked. He expected some decrepit old woman, with scaly green skin. But all he sees is a cute girl, with long brunette hair and cold brown eyes, she’s chanting inside a circle of candles that flicker every so often. She has a circle above a weird looking plus sign on her forehead and on both her wrists is a crook and flail.

“Proserpina, Osiris, hear my words, accept my offering!” She yells, and then picks up a rabbit by the ears and a rigid dagger. She slices its throat; she lets the blood spill into a mortar, and then adds some strange-looking eyes and some grain and dust to the mix. Taking a pestle, she crushes the ingredients, and then spills it in the shape of a circle within the space of the candles. Taking a seat on her dark blue mat, she holds her hands out and chants.

“Proserpina, keeper of the underworld, hear me!” She yells, and he witnesses the most unbelievable thing ever. As if there’s a storm cloud inside of Starbucks, the wind starts whipping, and lightning begins to flash.

“Dad when should we—“

“Not yet Sam, she needs to drain her power before we even stand a chance,” John says, and Sam rolls him eyes.

“Et transpire super eum, et transpire super eum, nunc!!” She shouts, chanting something strange in Latin. A voice, female, rings out loud and clear from within the coffee shop.

“WHAT IS DONE CANNOT BE UNDONE, WITCH!” and the girl shrieks at the being from within a fortress of lightning and swirling wind. Random signs in strange languages appear on the girl's pale skin, the letters and symbols glowing black.

“Now, boy’s!” John shouts, and they pursue the witch. They go in guns blazing, and Sam is the only one to notice the girl covering her mouth in terror, seeing her eyes fill with tears. She reaches for the girl being attacked by his father and Dean, and Sam sees lightning crackle in her hand, and he gasps. He shoots at her, missing by an inch.

"Dad, Dean, in the kitchen!" He yells and runs after the girl.

...

Castielle creeps into Starbucks, crushing broken glass under her boots, she's surprised to see that the police aren't here yet. She quickly goes out front, to find the horror she left still there, waiting for her. Her sweet Meghan, lying in a pool of her own blood. Their favorite rusty dagger nestled in her chest, in her heart. Removing the dagger, she finds it covered in the blood of her lover. Tears sting her eyes as she falls to her knees, laying her head on Meg's chest, hoping to hear a heartbeat from a heart that no longer lives.

"No Meg! You weren't supposed to die. You weren't supposed to leave me, not now, not ever!" She whispers, her tears being absorbed by Meg's clothing. Castielle wraps her arms around Meg, feeling for any remaining warmth but finding none. Sitting up, she kisses her cold lips and closes her blank eyes. As an afterthought, she rests two nickels on Meg's eyelids.

"For the boatman, okay honey?" She says, her voice cracking. Standing up, she looks at Meg once more, and cuts a few locks of her hair, tucking them away in her pocket for later. She raises her hands to the sky, feeling power course through.

 

"Osiris, take her now. Take her, now! Take her into your arms, take her." She says and when nothing happens, rage courses through her. "TAKE HER!" Castielle yells and lightning strikes outside, illuminating the entire store; blinding her. With her arms raised and shaking, she doesn't see her movements care the bloody hair to fall out of her pocket. When the light fades, it's revealed that Meg is no longer with her and that the room has repaired itself; wiping away the evidence. She sniffles, wiping her eyes, and falls to the floor, covering her eyes and sobbing freely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what up peeps? I'm good, thanks for asking. Now, I'm very excited about this story. So excited, that I wrote four chapters in advance! I'm gonna be uploading a new chapter every five days, mostly because I couldn't fucking wait to post this one! Enjoy!

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/mourn_me_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=204247768) 

_Brown eyes looking at him with such fear, yet, such matter-of-factness. Those eyes are so fierce, so damn powerful. Blue eyes too, fear and fury working in tandem to overtake him. He can’t get over her, that beautiful face, the curve of her mouth, the swing of her hips as she ran in fear, in terror! Those hands, touching him so tenderly, smooth on his skin. Her mouth, her lips, so soft against his own—_

“Dean, are you up?” Dad asks, shaking Dean roughly, waking him up abruptly. His eyes hurt from the morning light shining in through the shades.

“Yep, I’m up now anyway.” He answers, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. John looks…curious, watching Dean’s movements closely.

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” John asks, looking sheepish, a bit embarrassed. All he can do is laugh; never having seen his father act this way before. He looks like he needs Dean to say it’s alright, to say everything is just fucking peachy. And he does, of course.

“We just need to find who did this to ya, okay?” He says, patting his father on the shoulder. The alarm clock reads 9:13am, too early for Dean’s liking, but too late for what his father usually prefers.

“How long have you been up?” He asks, narrowing his eyes. His father shrugs, resting his hands on his knees childishly.

“I don’t know, I mean I’ve been watching you guys sleep for a  _little_  while.” He admits, causing Dean to break out laughing.

“Going all Paranormal Activity on me, eh?” He asks and does a lopsided grin when his dad makes a funny little confused face.

“Dean… stop talking so  _loud,_ man!” Sam groans, covering his head with a pillow to block out the light.

“Come on, we’ve gotta hit the books if we want to find the douchebag who did this,” Dean announces, and Sam gets up immediately, remembering how urgent it is to find a way to fix their father.

“Well, we should get to the library. Um, why don’t you stay here dad? Just watch tv, ‘kay?” He proposes, and John nods enthusiastically.

"I think SpongeBob is my favorite," John says, smiling.

 ...

After spending too many hours researching, Sam finally throws in the towel on the topic. He’s been here, reading every book they have on decoding Latin, translating Latin, and reversing spells, but they can’t find an answer.

“Dean, this is ridiculous. There’s  _nothing_  here, man.” Sam says, and Dean closes his book as well, looking just as defeated.

“Next best thing then, we’ll go back to the crime scene, and see what we can see.” He says, grabbing his jacket off the chair and heading out with Sam en tow.

“This is so stupid, maybe we should call Charlie,” Sam says, getting into the passenger side.

“Nah, I hate  _all_  witches. They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere.” Dean states and Sam nods making a bitchface.

“Wait, even Charlie?” He asks, looking at his brother; shocked.

“I don’t hate her, but I don’t approve of what she is,” Dean says, starting the car, and immediately some loud Metallica song starts playing.

 ...

It’s raining, she’s in all black, and it’s raining. Castielle and her family are at Meg’s funeral, and it hurts. It started raining once they arrived, and she’s pretty sure it’s her fault. Her mother can feel the power and the pain coming from her in waves, hell, she can feel it too. She’s never been able to see her own aura before, but she can now and it’s black. Like a thick black fog, all around her. When she arrived here, the moment she stepped out of the car, the ground beneath her cracked, the grass under her feet withered away and died. Looking at Meg in her casket, it makes her sick. Meg couldn't here, in a casket, dead; she was too young. She looks so peaceful, though, but not like she’s sleeping. Even in her sleep, Meg looked like she was up to no good. No, this looks unreal, like she’s posing, maybe like she’s under a spell. But no, Castielle knows she isn’t under a spell. She tried a spell, to bring her back, every spell she knew, and she’s still dead. Maybe because she died a natural and terrible death, she can’t have her. Looking at Meg, with genus Rosa’s in her hand, she’s struck with a memory.

 ...

_ She’s here, in a botanical garden, waiting. Meg said she’d meet her here and she’s fucking late. And just when Castielle is about to go home a Blue Jay flies down and lands on her shoulder. She giggles, turning around to look for Meg but can’t find her. _

_ “Up here!” Meg shouts, and Castielle looks up to see her girlfriend being carried down by several different types of birds. _

_“Wow, my very own Snow White.” She says, and they share a laugh. Meg lands on the ground, stumbling._

_“Fuck you too, then. See the next time I call on you for a sweet entrance, bitches.” Meg says to the birds and they just fly off._

_“If you’d walked, you’d see the path I made for you but that'll have to do._ _Abnob_   _a_   _, a thabhairt amach mo ghrá._  _” She invokes, and genus Rosa’s rain down from above. They dance in it, laughing and giggling._

 _“I’ll do you one better,_ _Mousai , paries musica._ _”_   _Meg says in Latin and the sweet sounds of Amy Winehouse’s ‘Valerie’ begin to play throughout the garden. In this moment, Castielle is more certain than ever that she’s completely and unashamedly in love with Meghan Masters._

 ...

She’s yanked from that memory by the sobs of Meg’s remaining family, Azazel, her father, and her brother, Tom. The aura around them is sharp; it’s a mixture of dark red and obsidian black. The pain they feel, it’s pure; Castielle can practically taste it. They're looking down on Meg, Azazel is touching her hair, Tom is resting his hand atop hers. Azazel clears his throat, his voice amplified, he’s probably using magic.

“I appreciate you all for coming, for mourning with us while we mourn. Meg, heh, she was a powerful witch; hell-bent on having her way. I want to say she died purposefully, but her goal wasn’t met, and knowing my daughter she would agree.” Azazel says, voice thick with emotion, he’s gripping the side of her coffin to continue standing upright. And Castielle feels a sharp stab of pain in her heart, knowing that he’s right. Meg died without succeeding, and it sickens Castielle, that her love died without purpose.

“No!” She shouts, standing up. “She didn’t die without purpose; it’s not fair, it’s not  _right_. She carved the path for us; all we have to do is follow it.” Castielle declares, walking down the aisle, toward to her lover and her open and empty grave.

“Honey, I know you’re aching too, I can feel it. But it’s true, it couldn’t be done, I’m sorry.” Azazel says, moving to rest a hand on Castielle’s shoulder, but she roughly shies away from his touch. She rests her hand over Meg’s still heart and then closes her eyes.

“Show me, Meghan, show me.” She invokes and her body is striken with power, bowing forward from the force of it.  

 ...

 _She’s seeing things through Meg’s eyes, looking at the ingredients. She can see albino alicorn, black ash, candle rain, saiyan, eyes of a newt, tongue of an innocent, skull of an infant, and the blood of a father warlock. She can feel Meg’s anxiety like it’s her own. She sees Meg sacrifice the rabbit, she sees her add the ingredients, then she begins to chant, and that’s when the men break in and open fire. She feels the bullets, quick and hot, burning through her skin, destroying her bones. Then she feels a sharp pain in her heart, radiating, ceasing life. And then the images begin to fade… everything turns black…_ 

 ...

Gasping, she’s released from Meg’s last torturous moments. And clarity, she’s finally found clarity!

“Green eyes,  _green_   _eyes_.” She whispers, and turns to face the crowd. “No one appreciates their gifts, not like I do. I need them, and you’ll all give them to me.” Castielle declares and she raises her palms to the sky.

“Hecate, Cerridwyn, Dark Mother take me in, Hecate, Cerridwyn, let me be reborn!” Castielle invokes and instantly, the witches and warlocks around her, fall to their knees. Several colors of many diverse energies rush to her, crackling like lightning. The colorful powers all blend together, turning obsidian and getting absorbed into Castielle’s palms, slithering up her arms; burning off her clothing as they go. Her skin is ashen, her eyes consumed in onyx, her hair catching fire but not burning.  She snaps her fingers and her nudity's covered by a blood-red gown, her arms now covered in black energy that fans out across her skin like spider legs; the mystical power having been absorbed into her flesh. Closing her eyes, she thinks for a moment, where to start, and remembers those seemingly pleasant green eyes.

“Diana and Ares, you will grant me the ability to wage war and hunt this Dean. Nunc!” She invokes, voice distorted and she's struck with more power. She can smell him, the one whose bullet pierced the heart of the  only one ever she loved. Whiskey, motor oil, and old spice. Him,  _Dean_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I hope y'all liked it! I edited this about a dozen times, but if there's any grammatical errors, feel free to let me know. If you want to comment on how you think I could critique the story so far, feel free. If you just want to kiss my ass, that's fine too. But do it in the form of kudos and comments, thanks!
> 
> P.S. I imagine Castielle going to the funeral in this http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_584/set?id=206835485 and transitioning into this http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_738/set?id=209401486 which is more fierce and violent and just screams femme fatale. By the way, I'm thecomedian. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, it's Applebees McFriday's, and I've got a sweet lil chapter here for ya. Sorry it took more than five days, but who cares? Anyway, enjoy!

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/avenge_me_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=204343406)

It’s after hours when they finally get to investigate, long after midnight because it took the staff an hour to clear out even after they had closed the shop. It’s just Sam and him, picking the lock around back. They go in through the kitchen, and Sam pulls out an EMP immediately, and it dings loudly. It’s shooting up, all ten bars; lights flashing. Sam turns it off, ending that horrible shrill sound.

“Dean, this is some serious shit here,” Sam says with his voice full of worry.

“Yeah, I’ve never really seen it do that before Sammy.” He says and they both walk a little closer to where they shot the witch, and suddenly Sam grabs his forehead; moaning deeply. “Ah, Dean, fuck!” Sam shouts, falling to his knees.

“Sammy! Sammy?” He says, grabbing him by the shoulders. Sam gasps, sounding choked. He hangs his head for a moment and suddenly it’s thrown backwards. His eyes snap open, black… like a demon!

 ...

His head hurts, it hurts real damn bad! He’s been having bad headaches lately, but this is the most intense migraine he’s ever experienced. It’s pulsing, his head, so painfully. Every time he takes a breath, it’s like he’s being hit in the head with a fucking hammer. Every time that hammer hits, it’s like he’s-he’s seeing something! A girl, with her hair in flames; her eyes blackened. She’s a demon, but a familiar one. She’s levitating, looking as if she’s flying; top speed. Something in his gut, it tells him she’s-she’s coming for them! And suddenly, he’s released from this vision; being thrown backwards.

“Dean,” he says panting “someone’s coming, she’s coming!” He says, eyes watering. He feels a bit of wetness on his upper lip and finds out he’s bleeding.

“Sam, Sammy, what the hell is going on, dude? Talk to me,” Dean says, helping him to his feet. Something tells him to touch the floor, to feel for something; anything. Touching around blindly, he runs across some hair. That witch's hair, with dried blood in it. Pulling out a zip-lock bag, he puts it away for later analysis.

“We’ve gotta go, Dean, she’s coming for us. She’s—“

“Hello, boys!” She shouts from outside, shattering all the windows in the building! The wind is whipping for no clear reason, lightning crackling all around her. There are veins spreading from her hairline to her forehead, others stretching down her neck to her arms.

“Who the hell are you?!” Dean shouts, colt in hand. Waving her hand, she says an incantation.

“Ex pulvis in terram!” she shouts back, and Dean’s gun slowly turns into dust; running through his fingers.

“Neat trick bitch!” Dean says, sounding cocky yet his eyes are full of worry.

“Oh, you like that? Try this on for size, in dolor expandit ad te!” She invokes, striking lightning towards them. In the heat of the moment, Sam from compelled to say these words from instinct.

“Sed contra.” Sam counters, waving his hand; causing the blast to backfire. She drops to her feet, no longer levitating.

“Nice try little boy, but you don’t know what real magic is. Et dolor meus et claudus,” she invokes, smiling when Sam grabs his heart and tears spring to his eyes.

“What-what the hell did you do to me?” he groans, rubbing over his heart; as if that’ll heal the ache inside.

“That’s real pain, dear. Its loss, bloodshed, and just useless fury; feel it…” she invokes, stretching her hand towards him; slowly closing it.

“Ah, uhn! Ahh!!” he screams, grabbing his chest; falling to his knees.

“Stop it!” Dean shouts, panting. “Please,” he whispers, catching her attention.

“Don’t you think she would’ve pleaded if she could?” she asks and closes her eyes. She can feel the anger spark inside; can feel the fear that Meg felt in her last moments. She uses that to fuel her, and extends the fingers of her other hand; folding her index finger, causing Sam’s to break. He screams, and she revels in it.

“Pseudologi, et perforabit dominus ejus verba mea cor eius sicut glandibus traiectus sint!” She chants, invoking her hatred.

 ...

Sam feels like someone wrapped barbwire around his heart, and suddenly that pain intensifies; causing him shriek.

“STOP!!” He begs, sobbing and he chokes on his own breath. “No…” he whispers, voice pained and the last thing he sees before he’s blinded by his pain are his brother's eyes Dean’s eyes; full of anguish and unshed tears.

 ...

Lightning is crackling in Castielle’s eyes, and the energy around her sparks; striking different areas of the store. Thunderclaps ring throughout Starbucks, she laughs when the boy starts  seizing; clenching his jaw so hard he cracks an incisor. It occurs to her that she hasn’t given Dean a taste of her rage, even though she knows the kid’s suffering hurts Dean more than physical pain ever could.

“Hey Deanie-boy, would you like to make a deal?” She says as condescendingly as possible, loving the look of pain in his eyes.

“What-what kind of deal?” He says apprehensively, narrowing his eyes. She smiles, loving the smell of fear wafting off him.

“Well, you see, Sam is unconscious, but he can feel all this pain nonetheless. He just can’t scream, it’ll be like a nightmare; feeling all that and not even being able to scream about it.” She says, closing her other hand; causing the rest of Sam’s fingers to break. He twitches, ceasing and shaking uncontrollably.

“Just stop! Please, whatever you want; it’s yours.” Dean says, and she chuckles a little.

“That’s so noble of you, Dean. Honey, I’m curious about you, about what’s inside you.” She says, slowly walking over to him—while keeping Sam levitating—touching his face gently before suddenly striking him, hard. She slides her finger down his shirt, tearing it open. Touching her fingers to his chest, she slowly—ever so slowly—sinks them into his body.

“Uhn, uhn, aaah!!” He yells at the top of his lungs, eyes quickly filling with tears. She touches his soul, seeing that it’s stained with the blood of many. It’s beautiful, how he’s literally a stereotypical tortured soul. Plagued with his unchangeable reality hunting, but he can’t remember a time when he didn’t know this hidden world. It’s sweet, how Sam is the light of his life; the only reason he hasn’t bitten the bullet just yet. How cute. Quickly, she removes her hand, licking her fingers; tasting his soul just a bit.

“Alright,” he says, panting. “I agreed, now stop hurting him,” Dean says, frozen in place as his tears stream down his freckled cheeks.

“Oh, bitch, please. I had to see if the plans I have for that body of yours would be worth the trade, and it’s not. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sorry,” she says playfully.

“You fucking liar, I want you to know that I’ve killed dozens of you. That little bitch was gonna beg, but I didn’t want to see her do something so pathetic.” Dean barks, raising his chin. Her eyes widen in shock and she quickly lifts her chin, scratching his face with her mind.

“Laudate,” she invokes and suddenly Sam is being consumed by flames. “Fuck with me, and I fuck with him.” She says, smiling at the shock and hurt in Dean’s eyes.

 ...

Sam, he’s-he’s burning. It’s a sight too painful for his mind to comprehend, and Dean fucking snaps. He’s dragged into a memory, and it makes him smile; eyes lost.

 ...

_ “Deaaan, you have to learn Latin if you ever want to stand a chance out there!” Sam whines, using all the strength in his nine-year-old body to shove a large Latin for Beginners book in his face. _

_“Fine, bitch, but if you laugh at me I’ll destroy you.” He threatens, and Sam’s face lights up._

_“I won’t laugh, you jerk, just do it!” Sam says joyfully, giggling a bit._

 ...

”Hecate, et invocare te. Nos hoc carmine veneficas, ipsa inferorum ignibus.” Dean chants, and the witch gasps, and Sam drops to the floor, the flames and curse switching from him to her in an instant.

“Aaaaah, aaaaagh!!” She screams, rolling around on the floor; attempting to put the flames out. Acting on instinct, he snatches up Sam, jetting for the Impala, speeding off; leaving that bitch in his rearview.

 ...

“It’s alright Sammy, you’ll be alright. I swear it; I’m so sorry, buddy. Come back to me,” Dean says, shaking his brother a little as he pulls up to the motel. Sam has severe burns, everywhere. With Sam incapacitated, his father being a forgetful Nancy, and Uncle Bobby being awol; it’s up to him. He’s-he’s completely alone, now with someone who’s physically disabled to take care of, he’s feeling hopeless. Once Sam’s tucked in, he hits the books harder than ever before.

 ...

When his research is complete, he has a list of what he needs. For a location spell, he’ll need agarwood, bay leaves, bauhinia, blood from the person he wishes to find, and that pendulum thing Uncle Bobby lent him. And  to rid the world of this bitch, permanently, he'll will need chicken feet, her blood, and a simple incantation: furor divina virtue in infernum eam detrude. Loosely translated as a real big dagger and the rage of her worst fucking enemy. She definitely won this round, but this isn’t over until her blood stains his hands. Bring it on, bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION: Ex pulvis in terram! = From dust to dust. Sed, contra! = No, counter! Et dolor meus et claudus, = Let my pain cripple them, Pseudologi, et perforabit dominus ejus verba mea cor eius sicut glandibus traiectus sint! = Pseudologi, let my words pierce his heart like his bullets pierced hers! Laudate, = Burn. Hecate, et invocare te. Nos hoc carmine veneficas, ipsa inferorum ignibus. = Hecate, I invoke thee. Free us of this witches spell, let her be consumed in the flames of hell.
> 
> Hope you guys liked this, if it was a hunk of dooty, lemme know, if you liked it, lemme know. I have 16 chapter planned out so far, and btw, sex doesn't actually happen for awhile. If you want longer chapters, lemme know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey dudes! I'm entering this late because I'm with my family, sorry guys. But, this chapter should be loquacious to a fault.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/raise_me_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=204418044)

_“Baby stop, you have to stop!” A woman’s voice says, warped. “Honey, please hear me. I need_ _you to stop, you have to_ — _"_  
“Uhh, oh, Jesus.” Castielle groans, shaking her head. As she wakes, she’s bathed in rage. She’s groggy, so damn groggy. She doesn’t remember what happened too clearly; one minute she was flaying a Winchester—having the time of her life, mind you—and then the next she’s on fire. It's morning time, nearly dawn and Starbucks is totally  _destroyed_. Sitting up, she takes in her nudity. Snapping her fingers, she covers her body in a black and blood-red cloak, along with a blood-red gown. As an afterthought, she waves her hand to invoke a spell.  
“Hephaestus, clean up my mess; undo my damage.” She says, and the store slowly puts itself back together. Once the store is completely fixed; her tracks covered, she sets out to catch herself a Winchester.  
“Diana, goddess of the hunt, savior of my soul, I invoke thee, take me to him.” Castielle chants and she gasps suddenly, her eyes being consumed by onyx once more; power coursing through her. As she’s lifted from the ground, being pulled forward towards the door, she sees a cat run by out of the corner of her eye.  
 _“Chase it Castielle, be consumed by the rage; the pain…”_ a voice whispers and Castielle looks around to find no one, so she continues her hunt; fueled by fury.

 ...

He’s checked on Sam over two dozen times, and the boy has only woken up to drink some water like three times. Dean’s worried, more worried than he’s ever been in his life, but it doesn’t matter. He  _will_  catch that bitch, and she  _will_  fix this. As he’s loading up his double-barrel shotgun, the building begins to creak; and he gasps. Everything starts to shake; his coffee vibrates off the table, the television begins to scramble, and the lights start to flicker.  
“Dean, something’s wrong with the tv!” John whines and Dean groans.  
“Dad, go take Sammy into the bathroom, sit in the bathtub and  _wait_.” He snaps, and John  flinches and does as he’s told. Dean doesn’t need an invalid now, he needs a fucking soldier and his father is now far from it. Quickly, he grabs up his ingredients. Chicken feet, sage, damiana, a few calendula petals, and her blood—which he doesn’t have, shit! Kicking some books around, he finds a spell book on the floor. Perfect!  
“Uh, Shezmu—or whatever—give me the blood. Give me her blood,” he requests, and out of the thin fucking air, a golden goblet appears… slowly filling with blood. The goblet has carvings on it, hieroglyphics. The building shakes once more, mirrors shattering, the walls splitting. He’s running out of time, quickly. Dumping the blood in the bowl with his other ingredients, he’s nearly finished. Before he forgets, he grabs that zip lock bag and empties the contents of the bowl, and he says the incantation to complete the hex.  
“Hecate, I beg of you, please take the witch and rid me of her. Sanguine meo, quaeso—“ he starts, but the building shakes roughly, knocking him off his feet and causing him to spill the contents of the bowl on the ground. The window to the room shatters, glass flying everywhere; some cutting his cheek. He aims his shotgun towards the door, waiting. Suddenly, a hole's ripped in the side of the building. Light floods in, blinding him a bit. The witch floats in, her body bowing forward as if she’s being dragged from her center. She flies over the sigil he had under the rug; burning it as she goes.  
“Hey Deanie-boy, oh, did I do that?” She jokes, smirking. “Nice toy, but it won’t do you any good.” She warns, nodding toward his gun.  
“You could be right, but I don’t really care.” He says, shrugging; cocking his weapon.  
“I want to rip you apart with my hand's sweetie, no need for guns.  _Dissipate_ ,” she invokes, and once again his fucking gun turns to dust!  
“Fine then bitch, fight me like a man!” He yells, getting into his fighting stance and holding his fists up.  
“Ooh, that'll make things interesting.” She says excitedly, lowering herself to the ground. He takes in his opponent; scanning for weaknesses. She’s in a gown, so she’s at a disadvantage—and as if she’s reading his mind her gown fades into leather pants, and now she’s flashing a lace halter top. She’s wearing stilettos—sharp ones—which puts  _him_  at a disadvantage. Her eyes are black; electricity is sparking from her fists; so she’s charged up. Fuck him, he’s gonna—  
“Uhn!” He grunts, her having darted forward and punching Dean square in the face; knocking him backward from the force of it. She smiles, and then rabbit punches him again. She drops down, kicking his legs out from underneath him so he lands hard on his back. But that gives him a chance to reach for the knife in his ankle holster, and he cuts her shoulder.  
“Ah! You cheated,” she says playfully, then holds out both her hands. Her nails literally extend into fucking talons! She scratches at him, and he backs up quickly; knocking over a chair. Reaching into his back pocket, he grabs three throwing stars. Barely aiming, he flings them all at her; one misses her completely, one cuts her cheek, and the other gets lodged into her shoulder, but she only grunts as if irritated. She kicks at him, aiming for his face; he blocks it. She recovers quickly, and then kicks at him again; he blocks it once more. She repeats this until he’s backed into a corner, and then she takes full advantage. She punches him in the side; cracking a rib. She cackles hearing that, and does a series of strikes; breaking several ribs.

 ...

Dean’s coughing up blood by the time she finally breaks a sweat, and she crouches down to his fallen form.  
“Well, fighting like men just don't cut it, huh Dean?” She taunts, and he has the nerve to spit blood in her face.  
“Fuck you, bitch.” He says, and she wipes his blood from her face. Castielle rips the throwing star out of her shoulder, too powered up to notice the pain, and jams it into his shoulder; twisting it.  
“Aaaah! Fuck!” He yells, banging his head against the wall. She only laughs, reveling in his suffering.  
“You know Dean, she didn’t have time to scream; she was too busy choking on her own blood,” Castielle growls, her onyx eyes narrowing.  
“She was a witch, casting some sort of spell; I’m a hunter, I did what I do best; what was right,” He says, raising his chin; prideful.  
“ _Meg_  was only doing what she knew was right,” She says, clenching her fists. “She was trying to resurrect her mother,” Castielle says, and a surge of rage makes her strike him across the face, and he spits out blood on the dirty motel floor. She shakes her head, looking deep in thought. The pain, in her heart, it’s damn near  _blinding_. For the hell of it, she punches him in the face. Now  _that_  makes her feel better, severely. Grinning like a loon, she punches him in the cheek, in the eyes, she backhands him and then strikes him in the nose; disfiguring it. She’s panting when she’s done painting a pretty picture with her fists, loving how his face is so bloody; one eye nearly swollen shut and the other bruised and bloodshot red. Looking at her fists, she smiles; lost in the blood coating them and the energy sparking in her palms.

 ...

He sees his opportunity—while Castielle is probably plotting on different ways to torture his family—and takes it. The ingredients for the spell, it spilled on the floor near him, if only he could reach it… yes! Touching the liquids on the floor, he says the incantation.   
“Hecate, naturam exuere bestiam de manu eius; ut eam infirmare habet.” He invokes, and Castielle’s eyes widen, she twitches; then throws her head back; screaming.   
“AAAAAAAAHH!” She shrieks, and several different colors and energies fly out of her mouth; rising and then disappearing through the ceiling. And then suddenly she stops and passes out; falling backward. The flames in her hair die out, the veins running across her skin disappear. Her skin is no longer pale like she’s dead but milkier; smooth.

 ...

Slowly, she feels her power just drain, and her emotions are almost overwhelming; her memory coming in all at once. She opens her eyes—the onyx disappearing—taking in the battered man before her. Dean, he’s so hurt and scared. She did this, but no! She shouldn’t feel bad, it was for a greater purpose, and she needed to do this. Yet, in her mind’s eye, she can practically see Meg shaking her finger at her.  
“What do you want from me, baby? I’m trying, I want to be with  _so_  bad. I wish I’d died with you, love. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m  _sorry_ ; I need to do this. Once I have my vengeance, I’ll come to you. I swear it,” she sobs, looking to the ceiling for answers it can’t provide, tears running down her face. Dean looks shocked and backs further into the corner. He looks behind her, and gasps. Turning around, she too gasps at the sight before her. Radiating a celestial light—there she stands—in a long and flowing camisole gown.  
“Meghan?” she whispers, tears spilling down her face. Meg walks slowly towards her, bright and nearly transparent. Crouching down to her lover; Meg envelopes Castielle in a tight and warm hug. She smells wonderful, like honey and flowers and nature and just  _home_.  
“I-I, you were gone. You were  _dead_ ,” she whispers, sounding confused. Meg rests a finger over her trembling lips, shaking her head slowly.  
“Am, Castielle, I  _am_  dead. I tried to stop you, to talk to you out of this whole path of destruction thing. You were so consumed in darkness, nothing resembling light could reach you;  _I_  couldn’t reach you. But uh, Mr. Smartguy back there added a piece of me to that little hex; and dragged your soul out of grief; of obscurity.” Meg explains, smiling at Dean.  
“Why aren’t you as hurt as I am, how can you feel anything good towards him? He killed you!” She shouts, nasal, breathing heavily.  
“Baby, it’s so peaceful here; there’s no need to be upset. And besides, an oracle told me if I continued to dabble in black magic, my seat above would’ve been taken by someone else. I’d thank him if I couldn’t see what this is doing to you,” Meg says, chuckling lightly. And Castielle finds herself laughing too, through the tears and the pain and the  _guilt_. Her lover is so sweet and pure; so joyous. She’s happy.  
“Meg, I’m hurting. I want to be with you, I hate this place without you. There is no me without you, no point whatsoever.” She admits, sniffling. But Meg only shakes her head; taking Castielle’s hands in her own and kissing the back of them.  
“It’s not your time, love. The boy has so much power, you have to guide him. He could do it, love, he could complete my mission! There’s light in him, so much light.” Meg says happily, smiling through her unshed tears. Shaking her head, she feels like she’s gonna break.  
“I can’t do it; they deserve to die. You were innocent, and now you’re  _gone_. Baby, I can’t; I  _can’t_.” Castielle says, sobbing with her forehead against Meg’s hands.  
“If you spare them, you’ll see. I love you, Castielle.” Meg whispers and her lips touch Castielle’s for just a moment, and then she’s gone. When she opens her eyes, the room is dark; the wall having been repaired. Turning around, she sees Dean has a .45 pointed at her head.

 ...

He can’t believe this; just a little bloody hair fucking saved his life! And then some ghost-bitch comes down and what? Makes Castielle—weird name, by the way—spare them; this is unbelievable! He knows the spell worked, so now it’s time to rid the world of one less fucking witch. Her eyes widen, and he cocks his gun; smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, if so, comments and kudos make me write faster so...your move.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, super excited with where I'm taking this story. I hope you guys enjoy this journey as much as I do!

“Please, put the gun down. I-I know I ruined you people, but I can fix this.” She says, with her hands up; surrendering. He scoffs, sneering.

“You don’t have any powers left, fucking liar.” He says; rubbing the gun against her temple.

“Remove!” She shouts, and his gun flies across the room. But...

“I fucking crippled you, what the hell?!” He shouts, panting.

“You removed my unnatural powers Dean; I collected those extra abilities from a few different people. Well, I borrowed them.” She says quickly, biting her bottom lip. “Don’t be afraid, I’m sorry—fuck I’m so sorry. But you did this to me, all of this pain inside...” she says, slowly backing away from him to rest against the bed.

“I did this? I made you try to fucking kill me?” He questions angrily, cocking the gun once again. She sighs deeply, shaking her head.

“You sent me into a state of grief.” She says, and he scoffs.

“Bitch, people experience grief all the time; you don’t see them trying to murder three people.” He says, shaking his head; laughing.

“It’s different for a witch, Dean. It’s—we—ugh! Pain and sorrow bring out the worst in us. I’m still in pain; I just don’t have any black magic left in, so I can’t destroy anything. But if it makes you happy, I’m still suffering.” She says, and her eyes begin to fill with tears.

“Meg,” she whispers, sniffling. Like a child, she buries her face in her hands; sobbing. He can’t help but feel a little sorry for her; she can feel it. But nothing else matters, this pain is all- consuming. She didn’t have time for it to really sink it, with the going dark side and all but... Megan’s gone; for good. Gasping, she tries to breathe through the tears.

“Look, I’m not here to make you feel good. I’m not here to feel like your-your some poor tortured soul, bitch. You’re here to fix my family and gonna. Right now, goddamn it.” He demands, attempting to stand up—but he just grunts in pain, wheezing. His ribs!

“I-I shouldn’t have... I don’t believe in hurting people, which means there’s no excuse for what either of us did.” She says, and then edges toward him on her knees. Rubbing her hands together, a sapphire energy begins to build in her hands, and he jumps backward; grinding his broken bones together.

“Stop it! Back off!” He says weakly, attempting to back further into the corner but he can’t. Closing his eyes, he prepares for pain.

 ...

Rolling her eyes, she then closes them and focuses her energy. She can actually see his broken bones; twelve of them; so immaculately destroyed. Slowly and steadily, she puts her energy inside of him; she mends his broken bones; her energy wrapping around the shattered pieces and causing them to grow back together. While her magic words on his innards, she touches his disfigured face, mending those bones and bruises as well.

 ...

Oh, my god, he feels so much better! Huh, he’s not dead. When he opens his eyes, Castielle’s are closed. She’s in the zone, and it’s kinda beautiful in an unpredictable way.

“Uh, fuck.” He groans, feeling his goddamn body... grow back together—shit, it hurts! Well, it doesn’t hurt literally feeling his them mend back together, but it’s so uncomfortable it’s boarding on painful. He can see the energy flowing from her hands to his stomach, it’d be a pretty sight to see if he didn’t feel like screaming—and then suddenly it stops.

 ...

Once she heals every bone, she removes her energy from his solar plexus. When she opens her eyes, she can see her glowing blue ones reflecting off  _his_  captivating emerald eyes. He has nice eyes, kind eyes; which totally befuddle her considering he’s a killer. Shaking her head to clear it, she senses tension, somewhere in the motel room. She sees an aura, flowing under the bathroom door towards her. It’s yellow, and smells of lemons; very tart. The air, if reeks of fear; of terror.

“Hey, don’t go in there!” Dean yells, standing up quickly.

“I have to, there’s more pain in here. I have to fix it,” She says, and when she opens the door, what she sees shatters her; throwing her into a trance.

 ...

He sees her go stock still and the sapphire colored energy in her hand's crackles; and then turns green. It’s as if some jade fire winds around her hands, and suddenly she strikes it towards Sammy!

“AAAH!” Sam screams, and when she closes her hand; he levitates toward her. His clothing burns off, save for his underwear. Getting a better look, Dean sees that Sam has skin burnt to the bone; burns literally from head to toe.

“Airmid, keeper of broken bodies; healer of wounded souls, I invoke thee; heal this fallen warrior, I invoke thee.” She says calmly, and Dean watches in awe as Sam’s skin slowly knits back together; as his Sammy heals! His skin turns from blistered to pale and then tan. His hair grows back, his teeth are slowly replaced. Once he’s healed, Castielle slowly lowers him to the ground. She beckons Sam over, cocking her head to the side; she examines him in detail.

 ...

Oh my god, oh my god, he’s healed! He’s all better, his skin is intact, all thirty-two of his teeth are in place; he’s freaking back! But, this is all at the hands of the witch who fucked him up in the first place, the bitch. Without even thinking, he slaps her across the face; turning her head with the force of it. When she looks him in the eyes... it’s unbelievable! Her eyes, they aren’t even there! Her eyes are glowing, straight up blue. No iris, no pupils; everything’s covered over by this radiating blue... whatever it is. There’s also this bluish-green aura radiating around her.

“You should be dead,” Sam spits hatefully but garners no reaction. She looks like she’s on cloud nine; completely amiss. They both watch her for a minute, noticing how she’s not moving; how she’s barely even breathing.

“Dude... is she in shock?” Dean asks, and Sam only shrugs.

“Well, um, should we maybe—I don’t know—handcuff her ass?” Dean asks, and Sam nods.

“We need to keep her here, so she can fix—“

“Dad!” Dean yells, running to the bathroom to check on their father. John is cowering in the bathtub, knees to his chest; with his arms wrapped around himself. Suddenly, a gust of wind blows through the room, and a thunder-clap rings throughout the room. Looking at Sam  their father, he makes a quick choice.

“Stay here, dad.” He says, and goes to check on Sam. When he gets back in the main room— Castielle’s fucking gone!

“She-she, Dean we lost her,” Sam says, his voice sounding distracted. In Sam’s hands, he holds an amulet. It shows a Goddess, raising her hands above her head.

“What’s that Sammy?” Dean asks, and Sam holds the amulet to his chest.

“It’s Diana, the mother of Wiccans. This is a talisman Dean, she gave it to me.” Sam says, looking to his brother; seeming lost.

 ...

She’s lost, so very lost. It hurts, every step hurts. She felt lost, so she went to the one place that could center her. The botanical garden, but she decided to make her own when that one couldn’t comfort her. Calling upon Gaea, she created a garden here; on a hilltop. She’s not quite sure where she is, maybe in Salem, where she surprisingly feels some semblance of warmth and peace. Some of Meg’s family is from Massachusetts, but they avoid living in Salem for reasons that are obvious. Meg liked to visit Salem, saying that she was more powerful than any hunter and any village of douches with pitchforks and stakes. And everything’s so green, so flowery; so beautiful. Yet, she can’t feel any peace; any comfort. The vines that stretch down from the trees, she compels them to wrap around her; to hold her while she suddenly starts crying. Castielle feels hollow, like her heart's been ripped from her chest. Everything aches inside, and she finally cries out to the heavens.

“Why?! If I have some great destiny, to guide some asshole, how can I fulfill it with so much pain in my heart; with such grief?” She cries, shaking her hands to the sky. Falling to her knees, she cries with everything in her; and feels a surge of power.

“Aaah!” She yells, pounding her hands on the ground and setting her energy free; burning the garden around her to cinders. When she opens her eyes, it looks like a bomb detonated in the forest. With everything around her being destroyed, she sees the sky; its blood-red. The sky seems to mirror the rage within her; the ache. Sobbing, she lays in the fetal position. Uttering the one word—the one name that seems to torture her.

“Meghan...”

 ...

“But why Dean?! We could use her fucking help, man. Look at dad, man,” he says, gesturing to him shaking on the bed, with the blanket wrapped tight around him; in shock. “He’s still messed up which means that bitch didn’t fix him and it’s not like we can ask her to try,” Sam argues, following Dean around the motel room while he gathers their shit.

“Look, Sam, you know I hate all witches. All of em, Charlie is an exception to the rule because we all discovered later that she was one of-of  _them_ . But I don’t condone practicing witchcraft, end of discussion!” Dean hisses, throwing his full duffel bag on the floor angrily; panting. They’re both panting, and Sam shakes his head in defeat; plopping down in a seat to leave Dean to do all the work. He feels confused; conflicted. That little amulet she gave him, he hasn’t let it go since that girl put it in his hands--three hours ago. Dean told him everything that went on while he was teeter tottering between life and death. Dean told him that the witch,  Castielle, tried to kill him but that he cast a spell that weakened her enough to kill her, and then Castielle’s dead girlfriend showed up from heaven, telling her that she needed to “guide the boy” aka, him. Dean spilled his guts about feeling sympathetic towards the bitch, he apologized which Sam told him there was no need. He felt guilty, for keeping secrets of his own. That girl, she told him a secret that he’s not so comfortable with sharing. He needs Charlie, hands down. The girls got game, she’s got power, which he needs it he’s to figure out what the hell is going on with him.

“I know she’s not evil, Sam,” Dean says, pulling him from his thoughts. “I just don’t approve Sammy, and I don’t want you to get involved with that crap.” He admits, looking apologetic. He nods, knowing his brother means well.

“I understand Dean; I just wish we had answers.” He says, shaking his head. Dean starts laughing suddenly, slapping his knee.

“What?” Sam inquires, his eyebrows raised. Dean just shakes his head, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Nothing buddy, I’m just thinking about that time I put itching powder all over your deodorant.” He says, causing Sam to laugh too.

“God, that was horrible! I still haven’t forgiven you, by the way.” He says, chuckling. Grinning, Dean grabs up the duffel bags, ruffling Sam’s hair and heading for the door. He stops on his way out and turns back to look at him.

“I almost lost you, Sammy, I’m glad to see you up and at em,” Dean says, a serious look on his face now. He catches his brother’s drift, and nods.

“I’m glad too, Jerk.” He says, giving his brother a small smile.

“I’m gonna go get some burgers, later Bitch,” Dean says, laughing on his way out the door; car keys in hand.

“Fuck my life.” Sam says, shaking his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I hope this was enjoyable. If so, give me some kudos! If you think it needs critiquing, whether it's grammatical or not, lemme know.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy it, if there are parts in Latin, I don't remember and are therefore not adding a translation so...your move.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/feel_power_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=204482475)

 

_“The solution is within you, Halfling—all you have to do is try… call out, and help will come…” she whispers._

“Uhn!” he gasps, waking from that same dream yet another night. Grabbing the clock, it reads 6:27am, and he groans; knowing he won’t be back to sleep anytime soon. He feels an ache in his right hand, and when he looks at it, he finds the amulet there; clutched tightly; painfully. He’s dumbfounded, truly. He doesn’t understand why he’s drawn to this amulet; comforted only when he’s holding it. That witch, Castielle, she told him something he’s still not quite ready to tell Dean. Maybe because he’s not sure what it means. It’s about their father and his situation and—maybe—that he’s the one who can fix it. Unless he has the solution to a problem he’s not aware exists yet. He goes to sit on the window sill, contemplating his future; his confusion.  

 ...

He was compelled to say that shit in Latin, in Starbucks, but now he doesn’t know _what_ to do. He hasn’t felt that surge of power since, and it’s been a week… maybe more. He almost wants to find her, get all of this confusion out of his mind. Maybe he can. _“…call out, and help will come…”_ Well, what’s the worst that can happen?

 ...

“Hey Dean, I’m gonna take a walk, alright?” he asks, and Dean nods, continuing to flip through the pages of a witchcraft book. Dean has been _obsessed_ with finding a location spell you can use on witches, and summoning spells for witches and fucking contact spells _for witches_. He’s off his rocker, but that’s not Sam’s problem right now.

 ...

Grabbing his backpack full of supplies, he leaves the house—their totally renting a house now—hugging his father goodbye like the old man _always_ asks for; he sets off on his journey. He walks at least ten miles into the nearby woods before he stops, pulling out a blanket with a heptagram in the middle. He places a black candle at the center, lighting it; the flame burning obsidian. He takes a seat, pulling out his pestle and mortar, pouring in a drop of acacia, shredded chrysanthemum, a bit of anise, a little agrimony, and some powdered burdock root. He crushes it all with his pestle, grabbing a pinch and sprinkling it on the candle flame.

“Iris, send my words to her; I invoke thee. Set me free, I invoke thee; tell her where I… uh, be?” he chants, gasping when the flame changes red and then—it blows out!

“You know, you really don’t have to make it rhyme, right?” She asks, and he spins around to find Charlie directly behind him.

 ...

Standing up, he smiles at the sight of her. She’s got this cute pixie haircut now, her nerd glasses, and a Star Wars the Force Awakens tee on. He pulls the redhead into a tight hug, smelling the coffee on her—but she pulls out of the hug, looking at him in an apprehensive manner.

“Sam, you’ve got uh, a little bit of fear on ya, buddy. Okay, maybe a lot, considering an amateur like me can sense it.” She says, her smile fading away; taking his with it.

“I was kinda sorta attacked recently, Charlie.” He admits, and she gasps; covering her mouth. She shakes her head and gets pushed backward by an invisible force.

“I can see that now Sam; I can _feel_ it. I’m so sorry.” She says, her eyes filling with tears. Charlie is a witch who has the power of empathy/cognition—well, they work in tandem. When you share your emotions, she can see what’s happened and what’s to come if your emotions are strong enough. Grabbing him, she hugs him tightly, rocking him comfortingly. Sniffling, she wipes her nose.

“Alright dude, let’s get down to business; tell me everything.” She says, clapping her hands together; feigning joy.

 ...

After explaining everything, in detail, for over an hour, Charlie still seems a bit confused.

“Wait, so this witch-bitch gave you this,” she says, pointing the amulet around his neck. “And expects for you to just what, _feel_ the power, Kronk?” She asks, shaking her head.

“Yeah, but the most bogus part is that she called me Halfling. What does that even mean?” He says, throwing his hands in the air.

“Well, we’ll just have to find out, now won’t we?” She asks excitedly, rubbing her hands together.

“Uidetur,” she invokes, a crystal ball with electric energy inside of it appears in between them. And out the corner of her eye, she sees a damn black cat run by, and looks to find it but doesn’t see anything. _Strange_.

“Um, Charlie, are you gonna be messing with dark magic?” He asks skeptically, and she scoffs.

“Oh look, a Winchester who finally sees the fucking difference! No, I’m not screwing around with what could be my demise. Jackass,” She says, touching the crystal ball with both hands and gasping.

“What’s wrong?” He asks hurriedly, and she shakes her head.

“Nothing Sam, this just has a lot more power than usual.” She says, smiling; her eyes blank.

“I call upon you, Minerva, goddess of wisdom; help me see, I invoke you. I want to see into his future, show me…” she invokes, and her irises begin to glow.

“Um, Charlie—“

“Shh! I think I’m getting—ah!” She yells, her head flying back, her body bowing; the energy within the crystal ball building; growing brighter. She looks at Sam, and their eyes lock; his body unable to move. His eyes begin to glow as well, white like hers. Their hands fly together, fingers locking, energy sparking between them.

 ...

_Their sharing eyesight and they both see Sam; he’s holding his hands to the sky; lightning striking his palms; empowering him. He does some freaking Avatar moves and uses this power from above to electrocute a pale woman in black, but she just absorbs his power; gaining his strength and weakening him. She waves her hand and he falls to his knees, powerless to stop her from impaling him with a scythe and—_

 ...

Gasping, they are kicked from this strange vision. They look at each other, both of them confused, both for different reasons. Charlie, because she’s shocked that her best friend just might be a part of this great organism with her, the Wiccan World. And Sam, because he might be the very fucking thing he hunts; that he _hates_.

 ...

Charlie had texted him a little while ago, saying that she and Sammy met up to explain his situation, well his former situation, and that she’s pissed that neither of them told her sooner—or in the heat of the moment!

“Heh, she really is a fiery redhead.” He says, closing his phone. Sitting at his desk—he has a freaking desk now!—he gets back to writing his notes; studying, preparing. He’s incredibly rusty with his Latin, so he has to use a translator book while he’s reading.

“Afferte, afferte, et saga. Bring forth the witch?” He says confused; squinting at the bad penmanship in this book. It’s old, one of John’s fucking ancient books. Heh, he remembers his father using a switch on him when spilled apple juice on one of his books by accident, and that was at age six. _“You can’t do that Dean! How are we supposed to save mommy, huh?” he asks, yelling. “B-But daddy, I thought mommy was gone already…”_

“Ugh, fucking Parkinson’s-having pricks can’t write one sentence clear—“

“No, Dean, they had it right;  _your_ Latin is just treacherous,” she says, and he whips around—gun in hand—to find Castielle perched on his bed. How she looks… it’s shocking. She’s in a tiny electric-purple halter top, leather short-shorts, fishnet stockings, and knee-high combat boots. If she wasn’t so unpredictable and damn dangerous, she’d be looking pretty sexy right about now. Actually, the unpredictability and danger vibe is kinda hot. Getting up, he comes closer to her; pressing his gun to her temple. Her pretty blue eyes, they’re lost in all that dark makeup.

“What’re you doing here?” He questions, applying pressure to the weapon; to her head. But she gets up quickly; maybe with supernatural speed.

“You looked younger before, how old are you?” She asks, touching his face; causing him to flinch a little.

“Twenty, what’s it to you?” He asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Really now, I just turned seventeen not too long ago!” She exclaims, clapping her hands, smiling brightly. She’s wearing dark lipstick, with shiny lip gloss. When he examines her completely, her appearance screams street-walker, not all-powerful Wiccan. And her breath—Jesus Christ—it _reeks_ of whiskey.

“Hmm, your demeanor says you’re intimidating, but your scent says you’re… anxious; fearful.” She says slowly, cocking her head to the side. His eyes widen at that.

“You-you can freaking _smell_ me?” He asks, flabbergast.

“I can only smell people with intense emotions, but that’s a new trick.” She admits, smiling. He smiles back, out of reflex; lost in those blue eyes. Shaking his head, he refocuses.

“No, look, you are my fucking _enemy_. I don’t want you here, not alive—“

“You’re lying, you _do_ want me here; you _do_ want me alive. You summoned me, even if you didn’t use my name; it was in your heart.” She says happily, but her eyes are a little aloof; so icy; damn near chilling. God, she— _her_ fucking demeanor makes him think of Harley Quinn; playful yet deadly.  

“And what the hell makes you think I want you here? You nearly destroyed my family—“

“And I apologize,” she says sadly.

“—and you almost killed my brother, my _baby_ brother.” He says angrily, pressing the gun to her chest; over her heart. Looking down at the gun, she chuckles.

“I don’t fear death; I lust for it actually. Everything I ever cared about, it’s gone; all because of a fucking bullet. So, shoot me, baby,” she says, then stands on her tippy toes; unsteadily. “Blow me away…” she whispers, kissing his earlobe.

“Meg was a witch, you’re a witch; I did what I had to, and I’ll do it again,” Dean says, and Castielle tsks; giggling quietly.

“No Dean, you pity me; the eradicator of my whole universe pities me, what a fucked up scenario.” She says, laughing loudly; covering her mouth to quiet herself.

“I don’t pity _things_ that disgust me,” he growls, shoving her in the chest with the gun.

“Aww, you don’t believe me. Here, have a lookie sweetness!” She says excitedly, touching five fingers to his chest; over his heart.

“Hey, wait, I don’t want—“               

“Daemon, hear my words; let us see into his heart, amplify the emotions lost.” She invokes, lightning crackling in her eyes. 

 ...

  
_They can see in his mind, through the eyes of a young boy; they can both feel the fear; the terror. There’s a storm outside, it’s scary. The young boy leaves his bedroom, running to find mommy; she can keep him safe! Still running, he goes down the hallway and stops in his tracks. Mommy and daddy’s door is cracked, with tons of flashing lights pouring out. Walking slowly, he peeks through the crack, gasping at the sight before him. His mommy, she’s pinned to the ceiling, with a tall woman in a long black cloak with long black hair looking at her angrily; a scythe in her hand. There’s a little ball of energy on the sharp scythe, crackling with glowing many colors._

_“This debt will be paid, John, she can’t stop me, it’s time—“_

_“NO! I-It’s me, I owe the debt. You must be confused, because it’s me damn it!” mommy yells, struggling against something he can’t see._

_“Fine Mary, I accept your offer.” The lady says, cackling; she slashes mommy with the scythe. And he gasps._

_“Mommy!” he yells, running for her and—_

 ...

Gasping, their released from this time capsule in Dean’s mind, in his heart; both of their eyes are filled with tears. He wipes his eyes, cocking his gun.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” He says, sniffling, shaking the gun at her.

“That’s why Dean, that’s why you pity me. You’re familiar with someone stealing a person you love; for reasons you can’t comprehend.” Castielle says, wiping her teary eyes. “I want to free myself of this pain, will you help me?” She asks; her voice husky. Dean catches her drift, wrapping his arms around her; he crushes his lips to her own soft and plump ones, kissing her deeply; passionately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this chapter was craptastic! But you asked for sex, so you got it!
> 
> Imagine Castielle wearing this http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_558/set?id=206658510 when she's with Dean. Hot, right?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijinks ensue, that's the only thing I'm saying. *locks lips with key*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I was anxious to upload it, so tell me what you think.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/taste_agony_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=204560445) 

She feels drawn to him, like a battered wife who’s unable to leave her husband, hoping the love will spark once more; like a moth drawn to a flame that burns and consumes it. The passion that sparks between them is one of hate, not one of love; only lust. She pushes him down on his bed, straddling his hips. Touching his abdomen, she feels his hard abs underneath his t-shirt. Dean pulls his black shirt off, revealing himself to her. She rubs his stomach and discoveries that he’s ripped, but of course, he needs to be strong to hunt. A spark of anger hits her, and she scratches him.

“Uhn! Watch the nails, bitch.” He says; his voice gruff. 

 ...

He grabs her hips, feeling her curves. That scratch stings, but it’s a reminder of what she is, and it makes him squeeze her. She moans, and it’s so damn pretty. He wants to move things along, so he flips her so she’s beneath him; pinning her hands above her head. Kissing her neck, he bites and sucks her—leaving hickeys in his wake—tasting her, and smelling her. She smells like perfume, fucking sexy, so sweet. When he gets to her little top he pulls out a switchblade; slicing it down the center.

“Ah!” She yelps, and he sees he nicked her.

“Sorry,” he says, shrugging. Heh, she’s braless; the little slut. He takes in the swell of her breasts, groping her, moaning at the _feeling_. Their big, round, and probably sit high. Next, he roughly pulls off her shorts.

“Ugh, you’re moving too slow. Disappear,” she invokes, and all of her clothing save for her fishnet thigh highs and lace thong are removed in an instant.

“Fine, I—what the hell?” He says, looking down at his naked body, except for his boxer briefs. She just shrugs, pulling him in for a kiss; licking his lips, using her tongue to play with his own.

“ _Blow me away_ …” she whispers, lightly biting his earlobe. He nods, scooting down the bed. He uses his teeth to pull down her panties, causing her to moan deeply. Once her panties are off, he tucks them away for later, and then slowly kisses his way back up; licking her thighs, making her grip the sheets. He thinks of the bruises Sam had—even if that fucking creeps him out—and bites her hipbone. Pulling down his boxers, he roughly forces his way between her thighs; loving how she wraps her arms around him.

“Take me,” she says; her voice sultry. He grabs hold of his aching cock, positioning himself at her hot entrance. He starts slowly, not sure if she’s a virgin, but then he feels this surge of rage and lust he can’t explain and thrusts in; sheathing himself in her warmth; savoring her deep moans and sighs as she shudders.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re tight. Jesus,” he says grunting, taking her lips with his own. He starts slow, and she wraps her legs around him; forcing him deeper with her feet.

“Faster, god I want you faster!” She moans, her eyes completely lost; but not unfocused. She looks lost in pleasure, and he hates that as much as he loves it. Grabbing her hips, he pulls her into each thrust and she goes willingly. He feels so much hate towards her, half because of what she did, and the other half because he understands _why_ she did it. Monsters have no rhyme or reason, yet he finds himself feeling almost whole when she bites his neck; licks his skin; when she tastes him.

“Fuck!” He yells into her neck, feeling her clenching so tight around him. It’s like she’s trying to devour him with her pussy and he fucking loves it. On a whim, he pulls out, causing her to whine, but then he flips her over; grabbing her wrists and holding them behind her back. He enters her quickly, fucking her harder; grabbing her arms in one hand and her shoulder in the other; fucking her deeply.

 ...

“Mmm, oh god, that’s kinky Winchester.” She moans unashamedly, pushing back into every rough thrust. He’s taking her from behind, and if she couldn’t see his red aura, the position would give him away; he wants to fuck his problems away; just like her. He’s gripping her wrists tight like he wants to hurt her. And then he grabs her hip; far too tight like he wants to mark her. And she lets him, savoring the ache in her bones while they distract her from the ache in her heart for a spell. She lets the mutual hate between them cleanse her; lets it overtake her; override her. When her eyes snap open, she unintentionally burns his pillow. And of course, he stops; pulling out.

“What the fuck?” He hisses, flipping her around; making her rest her weight on her bound arms. She shrugs, smiling.

“I guess you’re doing a better job than I thought,” she says and pulls her arms free. She wraps her arms around his neck; straddling him while he’s sitting up. She kisses him, and slowly slides back on his cock. He’s well endowed, like _really_ well endowed, and he knows how to use that fucking thing.

 ...

Kissing her neck and licking her, he gasps at the tight and clenching heat around him; so wet, so fucking _ripe_. For the first time, he sees a tattoo on her bicep of a dark red heart with an arrow through it, and in cursive, a name is scrawled there; Meg. He chuckles a bit, seeing it as ironic considering she’s riding his cock right now, and he smacks her round ass; groping it. He feels the energy rolling off her, it’s almost palpable, and it’s a little hot. It adds, even more, danger to this whole… whatever this is. She grabs his shoulder, nearing her orgasm—he can tell, with how wet she’s getting. She clenches around him, kissing his lips.

“Cum with me, Winchester.” She gasps out, breathing hard against his lips. He feels compelled to, and he’s not sure if it’s magic or what, but it’s fucking _nice_. They’re near their climax when he starts gasping, feeling her grip his shoulder tight, like a vice. She’s gasping out his name when her hand begins to burn against his skin, and he grips the back of her neck tight; crushing her lips to his as he cums with her; spends inside her.

“Castielle!” He gasps, falling backwards against the bed and taking her with him.  

 ...

When they’ve come down from cloud fucking nine, she’s smiling brightly. Her skin feels warm, like really warm. She feels warm inside, a little less hollow than she was yesterday, and she chuckles.

“Fuck, Dean,” she says, lying next to him; buried in covers. “Your dick is like a magic wand, Jesus!” She exclaims, and he laughs, smirking. Snapping her fingers, a lit cigarette appears between her fingers, and she puffs on it; loving the smoke caressing her lungs. She blows it out slow, watching a winky face float to the ceiling.

“Wow, that’s uh, that’s kinda cool.” He says, hopping out of bed; heading to the bathroom.

 ...

When he gets there, he relieves himself; there’s nothing better than a post-climax piss if he may say so himself. While he’s washing his hands, he sees something on his shoulder. Turning, he gasps, seeing a small handprint, a woman’s. _Castielle_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I am officially saying, I will not provide translation for the Latin. Mostly because I'm lazy...entirely because I'm lazy.
> 
> Imagine this tattoo http://tattoooideas.com/wings/red-heart-with-wings-tattoo/ on her upper arm, below her shoulder, with the name "Meg" scrawled across it. I love it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a little dark, and relatively short...I think...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! My chapters are gonna be upload 3-5 days apart, depending on if I remember and am not busy. So...yay!

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/you_cant_hide_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=205531833)

She doesn’t quite understand how she feels, as the morning sun shines in through his bedroom window. The warmth around her, it’s… _oh god_. Dean is fast asleep, his legs intertwined with her own, his arms thrown across her middle. Ugh, he’s like a fucking face-hugger. Her back is pressed to his chest, and when she tries to slide away, he tightens his hold on her. She’s naked, and so is he; his morning wood barking up the wrong damn tree. Slowly, she slides downward; his forearm rubbing upward; hitting her boobs. Groaning, she slides down and off the foot of the bed. She finds her clothes there, slipping back into her bra and shirt; she finds her shorts but can’t find her damn underwear! _Ugh_ , her life. Dashing into the bathroom, she gasps at her appearance. Her raven hair is tussled, more like sex hair, not bed-head. Her lips are chapped, her eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara are just _gone_. And there are bruises on her hips, her shoulder, and her wrists. Shaking her head, she closes her eyes. Focusing she thinks up a new outfit, her nudity slowly being covered with a red sleeveless turtleneck, black leather pants, and black leather chunky heel boots. For the marks on her wrists, she covers them with leather wrist cuffs. Heh, her outfit just screams the 90s.

 ...

When she leaves the bathroom, in her peripheral she swears she sees a black cat skitter by; but it’s gone when her head turns completely. Shaking her head, she takes in the sight of the man she hates. It’s a blind rage of course, and when she stares at the contours of his back, how his shoulder blades move when he flexes, the scars the paint his body; she hates it all. The room begins to shake, the strength of her fury is so… consuming. Pictures fall off of his desk, pencils rolling about, but it’s when the bed shakes that Dean comes to; quickly drawing his gun.

 ...

It’s fucking shaking, like an earthquake, and out of reflex, he draws his gun. But what he sees is a surprise; Castielle—with energy sparking in her palms—her eyes glow brightly. His room is slowly turning into a mess; all the items on his dresser getting knocked on the floor. 

“Cas, cut the shit.” He warns, and she just twitches. “Cas, can you hear me?” He asks, waving his hand at her, but she doesn’t respond. Climbing off the bed, he touches her cheek—pulling his hand away quickly because her skin feels like fucking ice! He sits down the gun to rub her shoulders, which are also freezing. Pulling her into a hug, he tries to warm her up. She’s in a catatonic state, and it’s unbelievably frightening.

“Come on Cas, look at me.” He pleads, and she does. They lock eyes, and for a moment he sees what she sees; he’s pulled into her world!

 ...

_He’s standing next to her, and the world around them… is in flames. They’re in the middle of a burnt up forest, the sky is blood red—with lightning striking across every few seconds—and fire is shooting up from the ground. He can actually feel the heat, and it’s blazing; his skin blistering. When he takes a look at Castielle, he gasps—breathing in fucking sulfur. She’s-she’s, what is she? She’s horrible; her hair is much longer and unruly, her usually pretty blue eyes are consumed in red; her outfit is a ripped black gown with long torn long sleeves. She’s just a mess, with electric energy sparking wildly in her hands. He feels her hurt, and it… it truly is like being in another world of pain; like being in hell. He feels hollow one moment, and the next, that hollowness is filled with an unbearable ache; and finally he just can’t take it!_

_“Castielle!” He yells, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. She doesn’t respond, she just continues to stare at nothing, until the ground beneath them falls away… oh, my god._

_“Cas! I need you, come back to me! Come on, look at me damn it.” He yells, the wind beginning to pick up, thunder roaring; lightning crackling across the sky. She’s still in her state of catatonia; unmoving; unblinking. Oh a whim, he slaps her; causing lightning to rip out across the sky; thunderclaps resembling gunshots ringing out; echoing._

_“Come on! Wake the hell up, fucking—“_

_“My world Dean, my whole entire being; gone.” She says, snapping her fingers; causing lightning to strike the ground._

_“She’s gone Cas, and I take responsibility; I’m sorry, I truly am. And trust me, I know; sorry doesn’t mean shit. But I still am,” he says, his voice cracking. He can feel the hopelessness she feels, the absoluteness of her misery; her agony. And, going out on a limb, he grabs her by the back of her neck, pressing their lips together. He feels her resistance and kisses her anyway. Just a rough press of the lips, nothing more._

_“Mm, stop it!” She yells, her eyes fading from red to black. The reality around them begins to crack, the ground falling away, the sky going black; slowly fading out of her broken mind; her shattered heart. Kissing her again, their ripped from this world completely!_

 ...

Gasping, she’s pulled from her own personal hell; with the ache still there in her heart. Dean’s lips are pressed against hers; his eyes closed. She slaps him across the face, again and again. He just hugs her to his chest, and she pounds against it; sobbing.

“It’s not _fair_ Dean! It’s not okay, why-why did it have to be _her_? It-it’s so stupid! I hate you, I hate you!!” She screams; crying against his chest as well as beating against it. He just holds her; quietly crying to himself

“Castielle, you don’t get to destroy yourself; not while taking the rest of the world with you.” He says, sniffling. Her pain; she’s literally _sharing_ it with him, intensifying his level of empathy unintentionally. But it feels nice, to know he’s suffering through the same—

_“Castielle! Castielle, can you hear me?”_ her mother calls; voice bouncing off the walls of her mind _._ She pushes herself away from Dean, looking around. _She’s gone mad!_

_“No, no, no baby. It’s me, I’ve been trying to find you, honey. We’re so scared for you; seers foresaw this-this witch, a powerful one, fueled by grief baby; by a loss. Come home, please; I know it’s you.”_ Her mother pleads, her voice causing Castielle such _pain_. Grabbing her head, she tries to squeeze the thoughts out; the voice.

“Get out of my head! Please!” She cries, falling to her knees. She wraps her arms around herself, being plagued by once cherished memories.

 ...

_Meghan, she’s laughing while Castielle chases her. Them squealing; tumbling to the ground after Meg gets the drop on her and tackles her. They’re rolling in the soft and damp grass; to hell with their new sundresses._

 ...

“Pleeease, make it go away. Take it away mom, please take it away!” She begs, and hears her mother sobbing in her mind. Pain, all she gets is more fucking pain! It won’t end, it never ends.

“Meg, I’m sorry baby. I’m s-o-o-o sorry, please Meg; forgive me. Please!” She yells to the ceiling, envisioning the sky above.

“Cas, she’s gone damn it. I need you to see that,” Dean says, grabbing her attention. When she tries to focus on Dean—bam! The bedroom door slams open, revealing Sam and a redhead.

“Dean, what the hell is going on? We tried to leave my room when an earthquake started, but it wouldn’t budge!” Sam yells; his voice full of irritation.

 ...

He can feel the tension mixing with the sorrow, Sam’s anger mixed with Charlie’s confusion, Castielle’s hurt, her absolute terror; she’s losing her mind. He can’t speak, his mind is racing, but in his heart; he feels he should protect her.

“Ch-Charlie?” He calls weakly, grabbing her attention.

“Yeah, Dean?” She answers; her voice just as wavy.

“Can you, can you pull her out of this? Please?” He asks, his eyes welling up with tears. She nods, walking over to kneel with Castielle. She holds hands with her, closing her eyes.

“Iunonem, Venerem suppliciter obsecro, hoc est a dolor. Redde quod amor coeptus auferent a te peto.” She says, chanting the incantation; fluently. And slowly, Dean can see a look of focus being restored to Castielle’s face; feeling the ache in his chest ease. The walls have been broken down, and her eyes fill with tears.

 ...

Pain, everything hurts inside. She claws at her chest, attempting to dig through and remove this troublesome heart of hers. Dean grabs her hand, pulling her to her feet; stopping her from harming herself. She shoves him away, and he flies across the room into a wall; denting it. The wound heals quickly; the ripped skin knitting together. She assesses her situation: she’s with two people she hates, and an ally of the people she hates. The redhead, she can feel the power rolling off her; it’s refreshing.

“I don’t know you people, but from what I’ve learned I _hate_ you.” She says angrily, wiping her eyes.

“Well, what did I do to you?” the redhead, Charlie, asks; her big brown eyes hurt.

“Nothing yet, Red, but you're with them and that’s not okay with me. I-I hate you Dean, don’t ever forget that.” She says, heading for the door.

“So last night, that meant nothing?” He calls after her, stopping her in her tracks. Without turning around, she writes him off.

“It was a great stress reliever,” she states, and keeps walking. She needs to leave, to go home and clean up her mess. When she’s outside, she realizes she has no clue where she is. It’s a relatively nice neighborhood, lots of greenery; maybe she’s in Idaho Falls or something. Walking down the street, she invokes the gods for a little direction.

“Anemoi, I ask thee; guide me home.” She requests and light shines down from the sky; lifting her from the ground, it levitates her back home.

 ...

She hadn’t thought of anything to say to her mother or her siblings, so when she knocks on the door; she’s holding her breath. Her mother opens it, looking like death rolled over; makeup running from crying, skin pale, and hair a mess.

“C-Castielle?” She asks; shocked.

“Mom—”

“Oh, baby!” She cries, pulling Castielle into a tight hug. She cries into her mother’s shoulder, like a child.

“I’m so sorry, mom.” She sobs, voice muffled. Behind her mother, she sees Samandriel and Anna coming downstairs; their eyes puffy.

“Castielle!” they yell in unison; running for their big sister. They squeeze in on the hug, surrounding her with love; with protection. Once the hug is over, she’s ushered into the house; being told to have a seat on the couch. Samandriel jumps in her lap, and Anna curls into her side; she wraps her arms around both of them. Her mother comes into the living room with a box of Kleenex, plopping down next to Anna.

“Alright Cassie, you need to explain yourself. Now,” her mother demands, and she nods. “Oh, baby, some friends said you robbed them if their powers, how could you do that?” She asks, sounding nasal.

“I did, I took their abilities; I needed the power. Or at least I thought I did, I had to avenge her mom. And I failed,” she says; her voice cracking.

“Elle, I know it hurts, but we’re good Wiccans; we have to use our powers for good, to help people.” Anna scolds, the eight-year-old having more heart than any Wiccan she knows.

“I know Annie, but I messed up. I could barely control myself, I’m sorry guys.” She sobs, pulling her siblings closer.

“It’s okay; at least you didn’t hurt anyone.” Her mother says, and she feels a pang of guilt.

“That’s… not entirely true, mom.” She confesses, and her mother gasps.

“Kids, upstairs; now.” She says, and Anna and Samandriel slowly slink away; unhappily obeying.

“Explain, now.” Her mother demands; eyes darkening with emotion.

 ...

After nearly two hours of breaking down the situation, her mother looks devastated; disappointed. She’s been quiet for about five minutes, just thinking, when suddenly she breaks the silence.

“I’m sure you know I am very disappointed, I’m hurt. I thought I could trust you, but I’m glad that he stopped you before you made a mistake you couldn’t undo.” She says, and Castielle lowers her eyes in shame.

“But mom, they killed Meg. They had that and worse coming, I just wish I didn’t feel any guilt for giving them what they deserve.” She says; her voice full of regret; of sadness.

“At least you can feel anything, other than pain. I am so sorry you lost her Castielle, but that is not how you are supposed to act. I think we both know that,” she says, her voice sorrowful.

“How bad were you when we lost dad?” She asks out of the blue, causing her mother to gasp. Shaking her head, her mother laughs lightly.

“You were never really one for subtly, baby. I was a wreck, and unlike you, no one stopped me in time. And I had my vengeance, and it felt good; until I was hexed. Your grandfather, he let me absorb tainted power; it was tainted with emotion, which I was lacking.” Her mother admits; eyes full of age-old regret. “I’m sorry, mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was satisfactory for those who are following my story, if you have anything to say, hit me up in the comments below. Give me some kudos if you deem me worthy!
> 
> With the "90s" look, I slapped this http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=209405175 as what she puts on when she wakes up the morning after.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was anxious to post this, so enjoy! (No translation, sorry)

_Underground, below the city streets, below the sewers, in the hidden catacombs; a beautiful white-blonde woman is praying, dropping herbs and ingredients into a river of fire. She’s on her knees, bowing; being taken by the energy that’s stirring.  
_

_“Surge, domina mea, consurge ad me. Surge salvator meus: non consurgent ad me. Revertere ad nos nobis adsurgere.” The woman chants; her eyes onyx. Looking to her left, she sees the chosen one lying upon her pedestal; clad in a beautiful silk-satin black lace gown, clutching roses. Black smoke slowly rises from the flames, wrapping around this woman; engulfing her. It blankets over her; the ritual almost complete.  
_

_“Intrare, regina. Intrare, obsecro; Proserpinae me, suscitabit regina.” She invokes; lightning crackling in her palms, she strikes the body; attempting to channel the smoke-like energy into it. She feels her power draining, but she strikes it once more. The smoke shrieks; diving back into the river of fire.  
_

_“Nooooo!” She screams; nearly diving in after it. Pounding the ground, she cries; sobs wracking her entire being._  
“You do not have enough power, my daughter.” A voice says, causing her to gasp.

_“Madre, I’ve tried; I am not worthy.” She answers, hanging her head. She feels something soft curl around her wrist, and she opens her eyes to see it’s a cat’s tail. Smiling, she hugs it to her chest; stroking behind its ear.  
_

_“It is time, my child. Much more shall dawn; for we are the children of the night, we shall all rise when the moon shines upon us. It is written…” the voice declares; fading off. She laughs, hugging the cat closely.  
_

_“She is coming, Danu, she is coming! Go, gather the other; take them to their leader.” She instructs excitedly, and the cat scurries off into the night. Cackling, the white-blonde woman disappears; her laughter echoing in her wake._

 ...

He’s enraged—no, rage isn’t enough; furious, yeah, he’s fucking furious. Pacing back and forth, he scowls at Sam and Charlie; relishing in the shame that paints their faces. He knows he shouldn’t be so angry at them, considering he pulled a Julia Roberts and slept with the enemy, but they had no right to go behind his back and endanger their lives either!

“Look, Dean—”

“Don’t.” He says, effectively cutting Sam off. It’s good to see Charlie, it’s been awhile, but he didn’t want to see her under these circumstances. Disobedience, that’s what brought her here.

“Dean, I’m sorry. But Sam needed my help and—”

“What about shut up don’t either of you understand?” He asks angrily, sitting down at the kitchen table across from his brother. He looks at him, thinking about how he almost lost him and how Sam fucked with magic anyway.

“We can’t just ignore what Charlie saw!” Sam yells, standing up so quickly he knocks over his chair. Dean just growls, and Sam sits back down. Shaking his head, he starts laughing.

“You know, it’s just like you to disobey orders and do what you want; never considering anyone else’s feelings.” He says, laughing some more. Sam just makes a bitchface, lowering his eyes. He wants him to feel remorseful, and if guilt is what does it; then so be it.

“I’m sorry Dean, but I don’t regret what I did. I needed information, and you were too scared to help me get it.” Sam says stubbornly; folding his arms like the little shit he is. Wiping around his mouth, he feels the 5 o’clock shadow that’s forming.

“You’re a goddamn brat, and I’m sick of you breaking rules. But maybe you're right, maybe I am afraid. And I have every fucking right to be; she almost killed you. And then Charlie envisions you getting murdered, which doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.” Dean says, running his hands through his short hair. Rubbing his face, he begins to feel the weight of how draining this all truly is; it’s so very tiring.

“Dean, hiding isn’t gonna make anything go away.” Sam says, bringing unwanted logic into the situation. Standing up, he grabs a beer from the fridge; Budweiser, his favorite. Taking his seat, he takes a swig—then a few more.

“You can’t hide from something that isn’t there Sam,” he counters, and Charlie huffs.

“Both of you, you’re impossible! This is serious Dean, and it cannot be ignored. I felt her, whoever she was, and she’s got some power guys. This is the big bad, and we’re doing nothing to defend ourselves.” Charlie says, laying all the cards on the table. They’re at a disadvantage, considering they don’t know who that bitch was.

“Fine, you’re right damn it; you’re right.” Dean says, giving in. He finishing his beer in a couple more gulps; relishing in the tart taste.

“We should at least figure out who she is, okay?” Sam asks, and Dean nods. “Great, let’s hit the books, guys. We’re looking for a woman in black wielding a scythe.” Sam says, and Dean gasps.

  ...

Her mother is pacing, the air is thick with power; with her magical energy. Her mom was absolutely devastated when she told her that she nearly killed Sam and wiped their father’s memory _and_  she couldn’t fix it.

“Mom, you’re beginning to leave marks.” She says, pointing to the smoking carpet. Gasping, her mother waves her hand and fixes the carpet. Her mother scowls at her, and she lowers her eyes in shame. Suddenly, she’s hit with feeling; with power. She feels dizzy and falls to the floor.

“Mom!” She cries out, and her pupils begin to radiate blue light; she’s struck with a vision! _She sees a girl, with gray hair and crazy violet eyes. She’s singing, dancing too, and using her magic so beautifully; moving it in a decadent dance of power; wrapping around her in an open field; carrying her about. She can’t see the danger coming, but Castielle can feel it._ Gasping, she’s released from the vision; finding herself arching off the ground; body strung tight.

“Castielle?!” Her mom calls, shaking her shoulders. Her mother is worried, eyes full of unshed tears again.

“Gray hair mom, these-these eyes; so wild!” She gasps out; unable to catch her breath.

“Oh Cassie, I don’t know what that means. Talk to me baby, please.” her mother pleads, hugging Castielle to her chest.

“I’m okay,” she wheezes; throat dry. “I-I think I had a vision, mom.” She whispers into her mother’s neck, fear taking over. Her mother looks her in the eye, and she gasps. Her mom starts laughing; smiling like a loon.

“You have the gift, baby. You-You are so rare, my love.” Her mother says, now crying tears of pure joy. Strange.

“Mom, I don’t understand. What gift do I possess?” She asks, rising to her feet.

“Oh, I never showed you. Hold on just a moment,” her mom says, running to her study. A few minutes later, she returns with a book… the Book of Shadows. They sit down and her mom flips through the pages, stopping a quarter of the way through.

“Here baby, the Enlightened One! Now, people always thought that Wiccans were talking about Satan, so Christians took it and used it for their bible, but they were prophesying about the one Wiccan who will overcome; prevail over—”

“Prevail over what, mom? I’m suffering without Meg, yes, but there’s nothing to get past.” She says, shaking her head.

“Baby, being a Wiccan, you lose things and feel the loss intensely: pets, friends, family, but most importantly, lovers. Now, honey what happens is that this loss takes a bit of our sanity, and then a little more, and a bit more… until it’s devoured whole. Back in the day, no one had seen a witch take back her mind, but seers looked into the future and were blessed with the hope that one day someone would power through. Most witches get lost; too deep into their own sorrow that they have some sort of breakdown and just…” She trails off.

“Lose it; I see what you’re getting at. Mom, I had a-a breakdown; but that fucking murderer pulled me out—”

“Watch your language, young lady.” Her mother snaps and raises her hands in defeat.

“I just… mom, he had no right to “restore my sanity” or whatever; he had no damn right to help. Not him,” She says angrily, hoping her mother understands.

“It’s our inevitable demise; wanting to stand alone. That’s why most witches get lost in their pain, but the further into the future, seers saw that every generation or so, one Wiccan defeats this curse; whether it’s the help of the gods or not, no one knows. And I think this time around, baby, it’s you.” Her mother says, dejectedly. Castielle just shakes her head, unwilling to come to terms with this bullshit.

“You can’t let this rage consume you; I won’t allow it. You are strong, don’t doubt that for a second, but this is the aspect of things that makes you more than human. Us Wiccans, we feel far more intensely.” Her mother says, grabbing her hands comfortingly. Sighing, she shakes her head once more.

“I just can’t mom; I can’t look at him as… as…”

“A hero?” Her mother asks, completing her sentence. Nodding, she feels like she’s gonna cry a-fucking-gain.

“Sweetie, the books say that the one who prevails will guide the others out of perdition; you’re the hero.” She says, smiling.

“Hey, mom?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“We need to find that girl; she has gray hair and pretty eyes, and she’s lost.” She says, her voice aloof, her eyes adrift.

   ...

“No, Charlie, I don’t want you poking around in my fucking head. Forget it!” Dean yells, pounding his hand on his desk, causing Charlie and Sam to jump.

“Look, Winchester, I just want to help; that’s all. You need to see this, Jesus!” Charlie exclaims, throwing her hands in the air.

“Dean… you need to get used to magic because I might start practicing it.” Sam says slowly; carefully.

“You know what; I don’t even know what your prejudice is! Yes, some of us tend to go dark side, but not all of us; not the majority.” Charlie says, shaking her head in confusion.

“Fuck it, fine. Let’s have a looksee, douche.” Dean says, and Charlie smiles a little. Touching two fingers to his temple, she transfers the scene of Sam using magic and then being killed.

“Jesus!!” He yells, jumping backward. “No, hell no, Sam does not need to be fucking with something that could get him killed, you idiots!” Dean hisses, looking from Charlie to Sam. They both lower their eyes, knowing Dean is right.

“Dean, I have to figure this out; I have to figure _myself_ out. I need your support with, you jerk.” Sam says, puppy dog eyes so… ugh, so fucking manipulating.

“Fine, you bitch; but I’m micromanaging this shit. Understand?” Dean demands and Charlie and Sam both nod; attempting to hide their excitement.

“Alright boys, let me go chat it up with my connections and get some supplies.” Charlie says, getting up to stand by Dean’s bedroom window. “Okay, I might be feeling overly confident, but I’m gonna try this anyway; Namaste bitches.” She says, snapping her fingers—and she disappears!

“Whoa,” Dean says, looking at Sam who just shrugs; equally shocked. “Seriously, she is a fiery redhead dude.” Dean says, shaking his head.

"Let's just hope she finds what we need," Sam says, typing away on his laptop.

    ...

"Uhn, stop!" She grunts, blocking another strike. Getting fed up, she waves her hand; causing the witch to freeze in place. Holding up her hand, she keeps the woman from moving; using a lot of power. "Now Helga, that's no way to greet a guest." She teases, panting.

"Please, you are no guest of mine. You're an intruder, and I don’t help fucking intruders." Helga says, raising her chin and folding her arms. The old woman is sweaty--most likely from their little tussle--with her gray hair sticking to her forehead. She looks bad like she stopped taking care of herself—again.

"Come on, damn it, my friends and I need help. Now isn’t the time for you to go all Allie on me." She pleads desperately.

"Fine _Noah_ , what do you need?" Helga asks, giving in.

"Thank you, Helga. Okay, I need ingredients for a protection spell, hex bags, and information on a Jane Doe." Charlie requests, causing Helga to roll her bright hazel eyes. Once she releases Helga from her magical hold, the hag searches through kitchen cabinets; gathering supplies.

"Who's the Jane Doe?" Helga asks as she bagging up the items; putting them in ziplock bags.

"Well, that's just it; we don't know. She had on black clothes, like a gown and robe, and she had this-this scythe." Charlie says, and Helga gasps; crushing the glass in her hands. Turning around, the witch looks... so fearful.

"Child, you better explain what you saw in detail." Helga says, a butcher’s knife appearing in her bleeding hand.

"Um she-she had a lot of uh power, it felt dark. I saw her when I was using a crystal ball, she was killing my friend in this vision. Her power felt, I don't know, old I guess." She rushes, breathing heavily.

"Oh, Diana, help us all." Helga says, sagging back against the countertop.

"Why, what's wrong?" Charlie asks, edging closer.

"This is no common witch, Chucky. She--she's not to be dealt with, ever. She's an evil, evil bitch." Helga says, looking off into the distance; eyes lost.

"I thought I felt that too, but who is she?" Charlie presses, resting a hand on Helga's shoulder; making her flinch.

"In my village, back in the olden days, we children were told tales of the one who stalks the night; causing the creatures that go bump to flee in fear. She wears death; dawning it like the cloak she struts in." Helga says; trembling. 

"What happened?" Charlie questions; fearful.

"What didn't happen? Tales of her laughter, echoing through the night; snatching commoners; innocents." Helga whispers, a tear falling. The building begins to shake, probably with the power of Helga's terror.

"The lambs, good lord, she took those precious lambs! She slaughtered them, the doe-eyed little la-a-ambs, she bathed in their blood!" Helga screams, sobbing. And it hits her, like a sledgehammer to the head; this witch killed _children_.

"And when all the little lambs were slain, only one remained; to tell the tale of the queen of darkness, ruler of all things evil. She will come bearing gifts of torment, of sorrow." Helga cries out, tears running down her wrinkly cheeks. These wrinkles, the gray, it's all from stress; from fear that aged her quickly.

"What's her name, Helga? Every baddie has a name," Charlie presses, feeling guilty. Dishes and jars are shattering around them, and Charlie is sure the only thing keeping them standing is her own magic.

"Oh! Why? David, why didn't you run?! Hide, Davy, hide! She's coming, papa, she's coming! Mama, she's here; riding a horse of darkness, she's-she's no! I-I-I'll praise you, my master, Madame Le Fay, please just spare me, I beg of you!!" Helga shrieks, falling to her knees. Blood, it's slowly dripping from the poor woman's nose and scalp; running down her face. Falling backward, Helga gasps her last breath she looks at her and in her eyes, there’s this realization.

“Charlie!” Helga gasps, and her neck it-it--

"No!" Charlie cries, covering her mouth to keep from sobbing. Quickly, she grabs the prepared bags off the counter-top; running from the little cottage. It's dark out, and she runs into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I hope you guys liked this. There's gonna be a bit of mystery, I'll leave clues here and there for ya.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things ensue, new people are discovered, yaddy yadda.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/let_your_power_glow_my/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=204859799)

This gray-haired girl is _beautiful_ , inside and out; she appears perfect. Her violet eyes make her different, so she covers them; blue contact lenses concealing the beauty. Castielle feels strange, watching this girl from afar. It took a simple locator spell to find her, she lives a few states away in California. Teleporting is something she’s grown fond of, that and watching this girl. She’s watching her through a crystal ball—amateur, yes—from their La Quinta hotel room. She feels drawn to this girl, maybe because she’s so innocent. Castielle hasn’t felt quite innocent these days, considering her behavior and her melancholy way of being. It’s just Castielle and her mother, venturing to find this girl. She’s younger than her from what she can see, maybe fifteen years old. She’s doing her hair, curling it, while listening to Ellie Goulding. Castielle doesn’t think this girl is doing it intentionally, but this transparent aura—this magic—is dancing around her when she sings along to Anything Could Happen.

“Hey, Castielle—”

“Ah!” She screams; shattering the crystal ball. “Damn it, mom, that’s the eleventh one in _five_ days.” She groans, waving her hand and removing the broken mess.

“I’m sorry that you're not Wicca enough to focus on me _and_ that damn ball,” her mother jokes, folding her arms. Laughing, she dramatically pouts.

“Come on mom, you know I can’t make these; I have to buy them—”

“You mean _I_ have to buy them, jobless.” Her mother cuts in, smirking. Rolling her eyes, she tries to focus on the girl, but nothing happens. “Maybe we should make contact at some point,” her mom whispers, examining her nails.

“I just… don’t want to appear strange,” she says, eyes downcast. Huffing, her mother takes a seat across from her; shaking her head.

“You aren’t strange, well maybe a little, but you’re trying to help her. You said she was lost, if you talk to her I’m sure the pieces to your scattered puzzle of a vision will come together.” Her mom declares confidently, tapping the table, causing Castielle to smile.

“Alright mom, I believe you. Let’s go!” She says excitedly, snatching her mother’s hand and teleporting them.

    ...

“This makes no sense Charlie, start over from the top.” Dean demands, pacing back and forth. She’s still shaken up, drinking tea to soothe herself.

“Listen, Dean, I went to her for ingredients—which I did get—and then asked if she knew anything about this chick, then Helga went mental on me and I guess she fucking—I don’t know, I think she… died.” Charlie says nasally, pulling her knees to her chest. She sobs against her knees; her voice muffled.

“I’m sorry Charlie, I’m so sorry,” Sam says, rubbing her back. This is outrageous, the bitch died basically giving them jack squat. A bogus story, a few hex bags, and a protection spell, but that’s not enough.

“Why guys? Why did that happen to her? She was my friend, kinda my mentor… and she’s _gone_.” Charlie says, wiping her eyes.

“Come on, what happened? Use that uber-brain you both have and _think_ , what could’ve killed that woman without even touching her?” He presses, and Charlie just shakes her head. And then Sam snaps his fingers, smiling.

“Helga, she was probably still under some spell. I mean, PTSD isn’t _that_ strong.” Sam concludes, folding his arms. Charlie slowly nods, seeming to come to the same conclusion.

“Maybe that’s why she seemed to keep forgetting things more and more lately,” Charlie says, staring into her mug thoughtfully.

“That actually makes sense, way to go Sammy. And maybe this toupee—”

“Le Fay,” Charlie corrects.

“—has something to do with it, well obviously, but what? We need to hit the books, look up anything about a soul-torturer and _anything_ resembling Le Fay.” He orders and they get to work; hunting.

    ...

“James, I’m telling you, I am _not_ going to prom with you. Stop asking, Jesus!” She exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. The tall blonde jock just scowls, punching the wall near her head. He towers over her, which is quite intimidating now that she thinks about it.

    ...

“I think this is the school ma,” she says, pointing to the George Washington High School. Shrugging, they climb the stairs.

    ...

“Shh!” A librarian says, her boney fingers to her chapped lips. James waves the lady off, focusing his attention on her.

“Look, Noelle, I want you to go. With me. What’s the big fucking deal?” He growls, lowering his head so they’re at eye level.

    ...

Rushing through the hallways, Castielle is running to find this girl. The people here are oblivious, so consumed in their own lives that she has to edge them out of her way with fucking magic. She’s running out of time, she feels it.

    ...

“I-I—you’re a senior, that’s just wrong.”  She says, clutching her books to her chest.

“Come on baby, you know how special prom night is. I can see you now, stripping out of a nice little gown for me…” He whispers, fondling the spaghetti strap on her shoulder. A few students are just passing by, pretending she doesn’t exist, that _this_ doesn’t exist.

    ...

“Excuse me, where’s the library?” She asks a random ginger kid, whose eyes bulge when he looks her head to toe and back.

“Uhh, I can show you if you’d like.” He says, flashing a grin that she assumes he believes is something resembling… attractive.

    ...

She knows her eyes are crying for help, her trembling lips forming words she can’t say. They’re basically alone since the few students who are here aren’t paying them any mind.

“James, please!” She pleads, turning her face away from his seeking lips. Pressing a hand to his solid chest, she shakes her head.

    ...

As she’s quickly searching through aisles, she witnesses something so unbelievably… _disgusting_. Some douche his holding a poor girls hands above her head, forcibly kissing her neck.

“Hey, ass—”

“Stop!” She screams, shoving the guy in the chest… across the room! Whoa, that’s definitely not something you see every—well, ever. He crashes into a table, destroying it; splinters flying. The girl is panting, her eyes wild, her hair messy and… _gray_. The girl’s hands are glowing with energy; bright purple and pink energy.

“Um, are-are you alright?” She asks the girl, who raises her palms defensively. “It’s okay, it’s alright; I’m not here to hurt you,” Castielle says, edging closer.

“St-stay back, please. I’m warning you,” she says, eyes watery, voice wavering. When she’s in the girl’s space, she slowly reaches for her. Pulling her into a hug, Castielle tries to reach the girl on an empathic level. And then suddenly—they connect, and she’s welcomed in; this girl—Noelle—is welcoming Castielle to comfort her.

“Don’t you worry Noelle, it’s alright; you’re okay. Everything is gonna be okay, I promise.” Castielle says, rubbing Noelle’s back. And she sobs into her chest, wrapping her arms around Castielle; trusting her for a moment. She showers her in emotion, in love; comfort. Pushing away from Castielle, she looks at her hands in horror.

“What’s happening to me?!” Noelle sobs, shaking her hands to get rid of the electric energy. Shaking her head, Castielle smiles as she holds Noelle’s hands.

“Your powers must’ve just come in, which I know must be scary.” She says, rubbing Noelle’s hands. Closing her eyes, she focuses her energy; calming the brewing storm within Noelle. When she opens her eyes, Noelle’s aura as disappeared; safely stored within her.

“What did you just do to me?” Noelle asks, her eyes wide and afraid. Before she can answer, that douchebag is back; fists balled. He swings at Noelle, and Castielle blocks the hit; countering with a strike to his gut. What takes place happens in a flash Noelle flinches, her fear overpowering the calm spell Castielle placed over her, causing lightning to strike in from the clear blue sky; shattering the windows. A few shards hit him; slicing him across the eye and chest. He falls to ground unconscious, blood pouring from his eye; his chest.

“Fuck, come on!” She says, grabbing Noelle by the hand and running. She’d feel bad for just leaving him, but he’s a cunt so she keeps moving.  

    ...

Researching is less than fun; than entertaining. It’s work, not the type he’s inclined to enjoy. He likes drinking, hunting; the chase, the fight; and most of all, the kill. Things don’t get interesting till a notification pops up on his laptop screen; alerting him of an “act of God” in a high in…San Francisco?

“Hey Sammy, check this out!” He calls over to his brother, freeing him of all the reading. Clicking a video, they see a news reporter at the scene of a wrecked library.

“I’m here at the George Washing High School Library, and as you can see this place has been damaged _greatly_ in a fight people are saying was “an act of God”. Two students were fighting with the football team’s quarterback when suddenly lightning struck the library, the boy is now in the hospital having been injured—”

“Jesus, what the hell man?” He says, pausing the video.

“Dean, this obviously wasn’t an act of God considering the timing; it was witches,” Sam says matter-of-factly, folding his arms. Shaking his head disbelievingly, he huffs.

“I don’t think it was witches, this obviously was a supernatural occurrence, but witches? Really?” He questions and Sam gives him bitchface 00257.

“Well, maybe we should go check it out; just to be sure.” Sam proposes, and he laughs.

“And what the hell makes you think _we’ll_ be allowed to take a looksee?” He asks, and Sam hits him in the shoulder.

“Look jerk, we can go question the fucking jock. God!” Sam says, throwing his hands in the air and walking off.

“Oh come on Sam, it’s a twelve-hour drive!” He calls after him, earning the finger from his brother.

    ...

It is incredibly difficult teleporting more than just herself, but she focused her energy and Noelle’s enough to land them down the block from her house. It wasn’t easy convincing Noelle’s mother to let them take her kid, but with her conversational expertise and a little magic, she got the job done.

    ...

_“Please! Where are you taking my daughter?” Ms. Porter asks, following Castielle as she grabs as many of Noelle’s things as she can; frantically stuffing it all in a suitcase. The Porter residence is dirty, with alcohol and drug paraphernalia everywhere._

_“Look, ma’am, your daughter isn’t safe with you; not with the abilities she possesses.” she says, and the woman falls to her knees; crying, agreeing._

    ...

Opening the door to the guest bedroom and flicking on a light, she reveals a room with floral wallpaper, a queen-sized bed, and a chest-of-drawers. Setting down the suitcase on the bed, she takes a seat, sighing deeply.

“So, I’m staying here for a little while? Just till things cool down?” Noelle asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’ll probably be staying for a—ah!” She screams, grabbing her head in pain. _Everything is bright, the sounds are distorted. Noelle, she sees herself practicing magic with her. She teaches her how to cast spells, how to speak Latin, and they’re-they’re laughing together; playfully practicing witchcraft._

“Castielle! Look at me, please?” Noelle says, shaking her by the shoulders. She’s on the floor again, her mouth foaming; eyes watery. She sits up quickly, panting. Her mother rushes in.

“I heard screaming, is everything—”

“I can laugh again mom, I get to laugh again; I get to feel something _good_ again.” She says smiling brightly, running her fingers through her hair.

“What’re you talking about baby?” Her mother asks, shaking her head.

“Her,” she says, pointing to Noelle. “She’s the key to my laughter ma, I get to feel anything but this-this pain one day.” She says, looking around with wet eyes.

“I know honey, but how is Noelle going to do that for you?” Her mother asks, and Castielle just shakes her head.

“I don’t know; I don’t know.” She says dejectedly, pulling herself to her feet. “Um, can you brief her on the whole witch thing? I’m going to bed,” she says, leaving the room quickly.

“But it’s only 2pm!” Her mother calls after her. Shutting her bedroom door, she slides down to the floor; crying. Running to her bathroom, she draws symbols on the medicine cabinet mirror.

“Metis, I pray to you in a state of desperation. What is my _purpose_ , pray tell? Why did the gods guide me to her, what am _I_ supposed to do?” She asks the mirror, and clouds within it swirl until a beautiful woman is revealed.

“You, child, are meant to guide them. Only you can instill hope and wisdom, the gauntlet of power, of magic’s, has found itself in your hands.” Metis says, smiling.

“But, why? I can’t continue with this pain, I cannot.” She says hopelessly, tears falling from her tired eyes.

“Of course you can because it is written in your blood and solidified with your tears; you will rise above.” Metis answers, nodding.

“But _how_ , what greater damn purpose is it that I have?” She snaps, sobbing bitterly. “Why my pain, huh?”

“Don’t you dare disrespect a high authority such as myself, I am knowledge; sight. The fates have carved it in the stone of destiny, you foolish child; this pain will only strengthen you; you are chosen; it is written!” Metis yells angrily, and thunder rumbles, the clouds darken and obscure her until she’s disappeared; Castielle’s sad reflection being the only thing she can see.

“WHY?!!” She screams, punching the mirror; shattering it. The shards cut her knuckles, so she punches it again, and again. Sobbing, she looks at her bleeding fists shaking; she falls to her knees; crying inconsolably. Soon, someone’s knocking on the door.

“Cas, is everything alright?” Noelle asks through the door, and she continues to cry. She finds herself hyperventilating when she tries to speak.

    ...

Opening the door, she gapes at the sight before her. There’s blood dripping from the shattered mirror, and Castielle has shards wedged in her bloody knuckles. She feels… compelled, and drops to her knees, taking Castielle's bloody hands in her own, she closes her eyes.

“Bright light, shining light; heal my wounds with all thy might. Bright light, make this right; heal my friend; ease her fright.” Noelle sings, and she gasps, her eyes snapping open; power courses through her. Her contact lenses are fried when her eyes radiate a glowing heat, and she feels the energy move from her heart and travel to her hands; mending Castielle’s.

    ...

She can’t believe what she’s seeing, this girl is like a muse of some sort, and it’s amazing. Her gorgeous violet eyes are revealed, and they are all-consuming with their mystic beauty. Rubbing Noelle’s soft face with her healed hands, she smiles and gasps. The contact, it’s electric; powerful.

“You are… so wonderful,” she says, her voice lost. With her free hand, she interlocks their fingers and their minds are in sync. Their heads snap to the left, and they slowly rebuild the mirror; sharing power. Noelle looks at her with wonder in her eyes and smiles.

“Cool,” she says, and they both laugh.

**_Later that night…_ **

 

When they arrive at the hospital, they discover that the jock, James Eric Daily, barely survived the “supernatural” attack. An easy lie and Sam’s superior acting skills got them to room 302, with tears and the help of a sympathetic nurse. The glass had stabbed ‘em pretty deep, and removing it was more dangerous than them being lodged in him in the first place.

“Hey, Jimmy, how’s it going dude?” He asks, approaching the side of his bed. The guy shrugs and then groans from pain.

“How does look like it's going? I’m in pain—escalating pain—nearly died, _and_ my football career might be fucking over!” James says angrily, panting—well, wheezing.

“I-I’m sorry, we didn’t know,” Charlie says, sighing. “What happened James, what did you see?” She asks, concerned.

“You wouldn’t fucking believe me, the cops sure as hell didn’t,” James says, dismissive. So, Sam pulls out the puppy-dog eyes.

“Please James, we’re really concerned. And “act of God” isn’t a satisfactory answer,” Sam says; his hazel eyes begging.

“Alright, look, I was arguing with this bitch in the library. I’d asked her to prom and she said no, and I’m like yeah right, so I kissed her, to change her mind, and she fucking she-she _hit_ me.” James explains, his eyes so confused.

“Um, alright, a girl hit you; big deal,” Dean says, earning an elbow to the ribs from Sam.

“She hit me across the fucking room, asshole!” James exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. He’s wheezing again, and Sam puts his hands up in surrender.

“Forgive my brother, he’s a bit of a jerk. Uh, what happened next?” Sam questions gently, putting a forced concerned look on his face.

“Well, this other girl walks in—”

“Really? What did she look like?” Charlie cuts in, confused.

“Um, long black hair, crazy blue eyes, a bit pale. Anyway, she walks in to help, and I take my opportunity to strike. I go to hit Noelle, and Blue Eyes blocks it, but I guess Noelle got scared and-and she um, well she screams…” James trails off, and Charlie rests a hand on top of his. James is nearly hyperventilating.

“Go on,” She encourages, with a touch of magic, and James twitches a bit; biting his split lip.

“Lightning, I remember seeing the lightning strike in through the window right when she screamed. The glass, it hurt so fucking bad, and the last thing I remember seeing was this-this energy, like lightning, in Noelle’s hands, and then everything went dark. You know, I didn’t even do anything to fucking deserve this. Noelle has been a bitch about prom for weeks, and I keep asking and getting rejected.” James says, and Charlie snatches her hand away.

“Well, it sounds to me like you being a persistent prick got you exactly what you deserve,” Charlie says angrily, huffing. And then the tumblers click into place, and Dean laughs.

“You fucking idiot, you pissed off a witch buddy. Now, I don’t like ‘em—at all—but I don’t approve of pigs like you either. Let’s go, guys,” Dean says, walking away from a dumbfounded James.

    ...

“I saw what he did Dean, he was-was forcing her up against a wall. He kept kissing her, even when she said no.” Charlie says from the backseat, and they all seem a bit shocked.

“She may have had a good reason, but she nearly killed him,” Dean says, starting up the Impala.

“Well, what do we do now Dean?” Sam asks, and Dean chuckles.

“We’re goin’ on a witch hunt Sammy,” he says, speeding off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I had fun writing it, if you had fun reading it, shoot me a comment yo!
> 
> Imagine Castielle wearing this http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_597/set?id=206962178 and Noelle wearing this http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_568/set?id=206689942 it's pretty dope, huh?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the only thing I'm willing to say about this chapter is that it finally gets the wheels rollin' and the story in motion.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/find_yourself_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=204418115)

_It’s beautiful here, in this garden that doesn’t seem to reveal the outside world; only flowers, a few ponds with colorful fish, and so many trees. At the top of each tree, beautiful orange flowers have bloomed._

_“Hey baby, I missed you,” Meg says, grabbing her hand and interlocking their fingers. She looks at her lover, how she’s glowing, and love blooms in her heart. Touching her face, her soft and milky skin, she kisses her. Running her tongue along her lips, she kisses her deeply._

_“Mm, I’ve missed you two my love.” She says, pressing her forehead to Meg’s. They’re both in beautiful gowns, hers is golden with long sleeves, with a dark gold trim, and Meg’s is turquoise, with a brown corset._

_“I need you better, Castielle; I need you to stay strong,” Meg says, running the back of her hand down Castielle’s cheek._

_“Why would I need to do that? It’s not dangerous here,” she says, laughing confusedly._

_“No, baby, but it’s dangerous out there,”  Meg says, holding Castielle’s face in her hands._

_“Don’t worry Meggy, I’m safe; I’m—”_

_“The chosen one,” Meg says confidently, and they laugh. Kissing her, Meg puts so much feeling into this, so much love; so much care and—_

 ...

“Meg!” She gasps, shooting upright in her bed. She looks around, finding herself back in her bedroom, covered in sweat. Running to the bathroom, washing her face. When she looks at herself, she gasps. Her skin, the color has returned; nearly glowing. Her hair is curly and she’s-she’s wearing the dress from her dream, and she smiles.

“Oh, Meg. Why do you do this to me?” She asks, smiling. Giggling, she twirls a little. And it hits her, like a damn train, for the first time in weeks, she’s woken up to feel something other than pain; than sorrow. And suddenly, she’s struck with a vision!  _She’s in a dark room, and then all around her many different screens pop up, showing horrific images. Girls, witches, young ones, they’re being chased, some are stabbed, other shot; they all run but find no shelter. A voice speaks. “Those who walk the night in fear of who they are need you, and you need them. Flock together my birds, and fly to freedom!”_ Gasping, she’s released. Looking in the mirror, she looks herself in eye and smiles.

“I am the chosen one, I can save them; I _will_ rescue the lost ones. Not because I choose to, but because it is my obligation.” She says, and nods her head; frowning a bit.

 ...

“Come on Charlie, your our guide; hurry up!” Dean says, swerving from one lane; dodging oncoming traffic.

“I never told you to drive like a maniac—ooh, this left!” She alerts him, and Dean makes a sharp left down a narrow street.

“Jesus, come on man! How hard is this damn spell, anyway?” Sam asks, and she frowns at him. Her eyes are covered over, black overtaking them.

“Do you wanna do it, Samantha?” She asks, gripping the crystal ball tightly. Doing locator spells in motion isn’t exactly… bright.

“How much longer?” Dean grunts, and she huffs.

“About—shit, right!” She yells, and he turns quickly. “Now, stop.” She says, and the jerks to a halt. She accidently put power behind her words, using magic to control the car. Sam and Dean slowly turn around, shock written on Sam’s face, and annoyance on Dean’s.

“Um, oops?” She says, chuckling nervously. “Well, this is it.” She says, pointing to the house on their left. It’s a relatively nice place in Pocatello, no too far from where they’re staying, which makes him uncomfortable.

“How come we didn’t know a house of witches was staying like an hour from us?” He questions and Sam and Charlie just shrug.

“Well, she already knows our faces, maybe we should go in guns blazing.” Sam proposes, and Charlie huffs.

“Maybe because you’re in denial Sam, you can’t feel it, but there is some serious power coming from that house,” Charlie says, folding her arms.

“Dude, how is he supposed to? He may not even _be_ anything, let’s not go jump to conclusions.” Dean says, shaking his head.

“Um actually Dean, I can sense something; I can feel this energy.” He says, lowering his eyes.  
“Well, I look like an idiot, thanks, Sam,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.

“Look I’m sorry man, I just—”

“Shut up.” Dean says, narrowing his eyes.

“Dean, I’m sorry—”

“No seriously, shut up. Do you hear that?” Dean asks, and they all listen closely.

“AHHH, STOP!” A girl screams, and it’s coming from _that_ house. Pulling out his gun, he jumps out of the car. Sam pulls out a double-barrel shotgun, and Charlie forms this green energy in her hands.

“Let’s go, gang!” She says, and they run up the stairs to the porch. Dean charges, kicking down the front door.

“Freeze!” They all yell and gasp at the quite confusing sight before them.

 ...

She’s—she doesn’t know what she is, shocked is definitely something. Dean, and his band of merry idiots, they hunted her down and now they’re here. She’s currently levitating Noelle, and they were laughing, with this colorful energy sparking around them. The next time she inevitably saw Dean, she expected to feel enraged, but she feels numb towards him. Lowering Noelle to the floor, she stands in front of her defensively. There’s only one reason they could’ve chose now to strike, and that’s Noelle.

“Hello, boys isn’t it just shitty to see you again.” She says, smiling when the redhead frowns. “Alright Red, it’s less shitty to see you.” She says, stepping forward, causing Dean to cock his gun.

“Nuh uh, back up. We heard screaming and thought someone was in danger. Now that we see it’s something else, we’re gonna continue with business as usual. Sam,” Dean calls over his shoulder. Sam pulls out handcuffs with symbols carved into them.

“Boys, if you think you’re taking _anyone_ , you are sorely mistaken.” Castielle says, cocking her head to the side.

“She nearly killed someone,” Dean says, and Noelle gasps; covering her mouth.

“James, I didn’t mean to. He tried to hurt me and-and I didn’t know—”

“You’re new to being a Wiccan.” Charlie says, and Noelle nods; her head lowered. Dean just shrugs.

“I don’t really care, well actually I do; it’ll make killing you that much easier.” He says, aiming his gun at her.

“Don’t panic Elle, you can do it.” Castielle whispers to her, and Noelle closes her eyes.

“Um, c-condeliquesco.” She says, and the guns slowly fade to nothing.

“Goddamn it, not another fucking disappearing act.” Dean says, throwing his hands in the air. Castielle smiles, feeling drawn to Sam, so she slowly walks towards him.

“You know Sammy, I think you came here for more than a fight. Do you feel, I don’t know, anything for me?” She asks, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. Immediately, there’s a spark of power.

“Violentiam,” Charlie says, throwing Castielle and sliding her across the floor into the kitchen.

“No, Charlie!” He yells, reaching for her, and she’s slammed to the wall. His eyes are wide with fear, and Castielle laughs.

 ...

“Y-You really don’t know your own strength, baby. Crono tempore non stabit in via.” She invokes, coughing. And everything just… stops. Sam looks around, seeing that Charlie is frozen, her pained features stuck in place. Dean is reaching for Noelle, knife in hand, and Noelle has her hands up in fear; both of them cemented. Limping back to them, she smiles.

“You could possess this power Sam, you have it within you already. You just need to tap into it.” She says, walking towards the front door.

“Hey!” He calls after her, and she just leans against the doorway. Looking outside he gasps, everything is still; a woman stuck in a running position, a dog with his leg in the air, it's piss stopping midstream.

“It’s interesting Sam, how the enlightened ones are seen as cynical; how the ones who truly have power, they stay in hiding.” She says, shaking her head.

“What am I?” He asks, and she smiles.

“A Wiccan, but you won’t accept it. Not unless you absolutely have to,” she answers, and he huffs, and it’s his turn to shake his head.

“No way, it would’ve shown by now.” He says, laughing.

“You don’t get to choose, Sam. It's fate, but you’re not alone. Diana, she built us with a connection, Hecate, molded us with magic to bring us together; to find each other.” She says, excitement coursing through her.

“But why are so many witches—”

“Don’t start, you know that the world would be in turmoil if the majority of witches were evil.” She says, and he nods.

“But, we hunt so many that have gone dark side. I don’t get it,” he says, running his fingers through his hair.

“You feel a tug of sympathy in your heart, every time you put a bullet through theirs.” She says matter-of-factly.

“It doesn’t matter, that’s just part of the job.” He says dismissively.

“Oh, no it is not. Some witches have been overtaken by grudges; by pain. But no one stopped to help them, they just shot first and asked questions later.” She says, and he frowns. “It’s true,” she adds, and he reluctantly nods.

“Talking while they slaughter people isn’t right, so we do what we have to.” He says, folding his arms.

“You want to help people, so help. You’re killing your own, and you know it. I have never killed anyone, even a hunter. I may have tried, but I never succeeded. And I don’t regret it, I feel horrible for what I did to you; I hurt my family.” She says, throwing her arms around him; embracing him in a tight hug. He’s reluctant at first, but eventually, he relaxes, happily returning the hug.

“Why aren’t I mad at you?” He asks, and she giggles.

“Because silly, you can’t be angry at family your for but so long before you forgive them.” She says, and he smiles. “Sam, I’m gonna ask something crazy of you.” She says, and he frowns at her a little.

“What is it?”

“I need you to leave,” she says, and he scoffs. “I mean it, Sam, this girl needs me, someone who can train her.” She says passionately, holding Sam’s hands in hers. And then there’s that spark again, of energy.

“What is that, Cas?” He asks, feeling this-this power.

“Sam, we are all apart of each other. This is how it should always be since we’re connected.” She explains, and he nods slowly.

“I’m not leaving Castielle; that girl isn’t the only one who… who needs help.” He says lowly, his eyes downcast; his head lowered.

“Wow, I uh, heh heh, I didn’t expect _that_. Jeez,” she says, smiling brightly and then her smile fades. “Sam, I can’t be around Dean.” She says, looking everywhere but at him.

“And why the hells—oh, right. Look Cas, he’s not gonna let me stay unless he oversees this.” He explains, and she scoffs.

“He’s not the one overseeing this operation; I am. If he gets in my way, I swear to Hecate—”

“He won’t, but I-I can’t just act all accepting and shit. I like you and I don’t know why; I’m drawn to you and am comforted by you and I don’t know why. He won’t believe our connection is… natural,” he explains, and she laughs.

“Well, it really isn’t; we’re connected because of magic, Sam.” She says, smiling; causing him to smile too.

“Well, let’s hope that—oh god, I can’t ignore this; I feel so comfortable with you. It’s crazy!” He exclaims, and they both laugh.

“So, we should set them free, well lemme just—” she walks back inside, standing Charlie upright. Taking Dean’s knife, she puts it back in its ankle hostler and stands him upright. Standing behind Noelle, she grabs both the girl’s hands in her own and closes her eyes.

“Crous, libera nos ab dextera mea.” She invokes, and time resumes immediately. Dean’s yelling, Charlie’s flinching, and Noelle strikes energy from her hands; throwing herself backward with the force of it.

“Castielle, what the hell happened?” Noelle asks, panting.

“We’ve um kinda come to an agreement,” she says, smiling at Sam. “Charlie, Sam, please come over here. Humor me,” she asks, and Charlie hesitantly walks over with Sam in tow. Holding Noelle’s hand, she holds her free one out for Charlie, which the redhead slowly takes; gasping at the contact. Charlie grabs Sam’s hand quickly, smiling drunkenly from the power, and Sam takes Noelle’s free hand. Standing in a circle, they all close their eyes; reveling in the power—in the magic—that’s coursing through them. She feels so much being shared, so much trust being… passed back and forth; being weaved together by the threads of magic. She’s struck with something from Charlie, gasping.

 ...

He can’t believe what he’s seeing, this energy that’s buzzing from them; it’s unreal. It can only be positive because it feels so… wonderful. Charlie’s hair grows quickly; flowing down her back, behind Noelle’s eyelids radiates a purple light and Castielle… her skin seems to glow; this color coming to her cheeks, and her hair grows as well; reaching her thighs. There’s so many colors, auras, and energies swirling around them. When they open their eyes, in sync, they all sigh deeply; relaxed.

“That was…” Sam starts, shaking his head; blissed out.

“So…” Castielle trails off, slowly licking her glossy lips; sapphire eyes lost.

“Intense.” Charlie and Noelle finish, both smiling lopsidedly. They’re all a little unsteady on their feet, wobbling a bit. Snapping out of this… whatever it is, he pulls out another gun from the back of his pants; aiming it at Castielle.

“What did you do? Either I’m on some psychedelics, or things change in the last few seconds and—”

“Ten minutes,” she cuts in, letting go of Charlie’s and Noelle’s hands and gasping. “I needed a little alone time with Sam,” she says, walking to Dean who raises his gun higher.

“What, didn’t get enough time to suck face before?” Dean asks, smirking bitterly. She shakes her head, looking to the upward.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me you’re jealous Winchester.” She says, biting her lip to hold in her laughter. His cheeks color, confirming her suspicions.

“Screw you—”

“You already did,” she says in a low, sultry voice. Shaking her head, she claps her hands laughing.

“Look, you-you have _no_ right to fuck with people’s lives. You are a powerful witch, and one person shouldn’t have all that power.” Dean says, pointing at her angrily.

“Oh, spare me Kanye. I’ve made one mistake, and I am atoning for it.” She says, folding her arms. He just huffs, tucking the gun into the back of his jeans.

“You are un-fucking-believable, you know that? How have you atoned for anything?” He demands, stepping to her.

“I have a destiny, I’m some type of fucking chosen one or whatever and _that’s_ how I’ll atone. But you, ya little hypocrite, how do you sleep at night?” She counters, putting her hands on her hips. Biting his lip, he shrugs. Seeming defeated, he turns around; heading for the car.

“Castielle, what is all the commotion about?” Naomi asks, coming downstairs. “You used magic and a hell of a lot of it. Wait, what’re they doing here?” She asks, pointing to Sam and Dean.

“I uh… I’ve gotta go, I’m sorry ma.” She says, chasing after Dean.

 ...

He’s sitting in his car, clutching the steering wheel; keys in the ignition. He tapping the steering wheel with his thumb, breathing heavily; panting. Opening the door, she slides into the passenger seat. Sighing deeply, she rests her hand on top of his; stilling his movement.

“Why don’t I feel repulsed by your touch?” He asks, looking at her with wide green eyes. She exhales deeply, shaking her head.

“I’m as confused as you are, considering I don’t feel like pummeling you.” She answers, smiling; he smiles in return. After a few moments of silence, he speaks again.

“We hate each other, don’t we?” He asks, and she laughs, raising their interlocked fingers; shaking their hands.

“I don’t think so,” she says, looking from their hands to his curious eyes.

“You nearly killed Sam, and you nearly killed me. Not to mention my father—”

“Jesus, where is he anyway?” She asks worriedly, causing him to quirk a brow.

“He’s fine, I sent him with a family member. But see, why do you even care?” He questions, causing her to cock her head to the side; narrowing those pretty baby blue eyes.

“I’m… not quite sure Dean, I’m sorry; I just do.” She answers confused, shaking her head.

“Hmm, and why am I so comfortable with you? I mean seriously, what the hell is this lady?” He questions, biting his lower lip.

“I don’t know, I was actually wondering the same thing. It can’t just be a mutual sympathy thing, but I haven’t found any other reason. I mean, I get why I’m so comfortable with Noelle, and Sam, and even Charlie; it’s the Wiccan thing. But you… I can’t quite place it,” she says, shaking her head.

“What do you mean, what Wiccan thing?” Dean asks, pulling their hands apart.

“Well… we’re all connected, every single Wiccan; one unit; one entity.” She answers, her eyes filled with excitement.

“I don’t fucking believe it, wow.” He says, scoffing. “Sam completely failed to mention that,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Dean… it doesn’t feel unnatural to him, the comfortability.” She says, resting her hand on his shoulder, which he shrugs off.

“Well, I hope it’s nice, feeling included like that.” He says, starting the engine. “Now get out,” he demands angrily, causing her to squint her eyes in confusion.

“Look, Dean, I can sense your jealousy coming off you in waves; but I don’t understand it.” She says, shaking her head.

“It’s simple, you fucked me, and now you’ll fuck my brother. Remember, the kiss?” He asks, scowling at her.

“Dean, I only did what felt natural. To me, it was like a-a greeting. I’m sorry if that upset you, but I wasn’t making a move on Sam.” She says, voice full of sincerity and regret.

“Well, it didn’t seem like anything but that; a move, a pass. I mean, the way you make it sound, you guys feel like-like family or something. And I don’t greet my family with a kiss,” he says angrily, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“Look, you can take it for what you will, I don’t really care. But there’s more to this whole situation, I mean I’m having visions like crazy and I’m more drawn to other Wiccans than ever before Dean. I want you with me in training them, Sam needs a guide if he’s to fight whatever is coming.” She says, gripping the dashboard; causing it to groan in her intense hold.

“Listen Cas, I am not agreeing to your little Hogwarts Express experiment, and if you’re looking for my blessing, the answers no.” He says, attempting to crush the topic; enraging her. Unintentionally, she causes the car to shake. An idea strikes her, and she closes her eyes to focus, and slowly exhales.

 ...

Suddenly, their surroundings change entirely, and they're on a battlefield with a massacre around them. She’s tapped into a vision she borrowed from Charlie, and is intensifying it; adding necessary dramatics. They are witnessing Sam’s battle against something dark, something old and malevolent. He’s clashing swords with it, and the being causes their swords to disappear.

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean asks, jumping out the car into the eye of the storm, and she follows right behind him. The wind is whipping, causing dust to fly off the ground, while tornadoes swirl nearby; kicking up more dust that obscures their vision.

“This is what’s to come, Dean, this the future we will face at some point.” She yells over the noise, screaming witches going toe to toe all around them. Charlie is in full-on wicca-gear, with a large helmet similar to Loki’s, with a large breastplate. She strikes lightning at a witch, but Castielle manipulates the image, causing the opposing witch to reverse Charlie’s magic; striking her down; killing her.

“Jesus fuck! Stop this, now!” Dean yells, shaking her shoulders.

“NO!” She screams, snapping her fingers to disappear and then reappear near Sam, causing Dean to chase after her.

“This isn’t fucking real, now stop this!” Dean orders, pulling out his gun, which she causes to fade to dust in his hands.

“All of your manmade weapons stand no chance, Sam seems to understand that!” She yells, pointing to his sword, which has several symbols engraved in it. But the entity he’s battling knocks his weapon from his hands; taking advantage. He tries to strike with lightning, but she reverses it, striking him until he turns to dust!

“NO!” Dean yells, falling to his knees. “Please, Sammy!” He cries, grabbing at the ashes of his baby brother. Seeing her point is sinking in, she slowly lifts the veil of the warped reality she created, the noise fading, the wind stopping, and the bodies of slain girls slowly disappear.

 ...

“It doesn’t have to be this way Dean, not if they train. I don’t know what that is, I haven’t seen anything like it. It scares me, Dean, _me_. Please, help us fight?” She asks, holding out her hand, she pleads with her eyes. She’s used magic to manipulate people before, but now she’s using it to convince him. He slowly reaches with his, and she smiles as she pulls him to his feet.

“What-what the hell was that, Cas?” He asks, wiping his eyes. Sighing, she shakes her head.

“A future I foresee happening,” she answers, lowering her eyes. “Come on, let’s tell the others.” She says, pulling him along.

 ...

Everyone’s in the living room, some sitting on the couch, others in loveseats. She’s walking back and forth in front of the fireplace, fire poker in hand.

“I looked over a less… a _dramatic_ version of your vision Charlie, and I cannot let Sam perish; he’s someone I must guide. Apparently, I have to guide many Wiccans.” She says, twirling the poker around.

“And what makes you think that?” Dean asks, folding his arms.

“Because, I’m the Chosen One.” She answers, smirking when they gasp. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chap, I worked hard on it. I can tell that this story won't end until chapter 40...or longer. Lol, if you have a comment, hit me up. If you liked it, shoot me a kudos. 
> 
> As the Canadians say, peace oot!
> 
> Also, for the dresses in the beginning, go here. http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=209405946 I couldn't find a brown corset so I changed it completely. 
> 
> Later, when her and Noelle train, she's wearing this http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_631/set?id=207630097 and Noelle is in this http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_630/set?id=207618332


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, and fair warning--this is an establishing chapter so... yeah.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/let_your_power_gleam_my/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=204638650)

“You’re the Chosen One?” Charlie asks, for the fortieth fucking time. Angrily rubbing her face, she nods; clutching her poker tight.

“But the Chosen One of what or for what?” Sam asks, equally as confused as the agitating redhead.

“I’ve been chosen to guide you idiots, and the many others like you. Jesus,” she says, plopping down on the couch next to her mother.

“Well, how do we know?” Dean asks, getting up and standing in front of the fireplace. “Do we even have proof that she is?” He asks, rubbing his chin.

“That’s… actually a good question,” Charlie says, nodding slowly.

“We don’t have proof that she’s not,” Noelle chimes in, folding her arms, which causes Castielle to smile.

“You can’t prove a negative, sweetie,” Charlie says, and Noelle flips her the bird. 

“Look, there is proof,” Naomi says, standing up. “There are ancient books, with more information. I just know the tales from memory because I was told them as a child.” She says, smiling confidently.

“Okay, well bring the books then,” Dean says doubtfully, sitting back down in the loveseat. “If there’s proof of some prophesy, then—”

“You will not patronize me in my house, little boy. And there _is_ proof, but the books aren’t here; witches don’t put some valuable sources of information where arrogant little pricks like you can access them.” She states flat out, and the lights in the room begin to flicker a bit. “You’re new to this world, I can tell, so let me explain something—”

“Mom, please, he’s a dick but considering we all don’t know each other too well, I think you can understand why he doubts us.” Castielle cuts in sternly, crossing her legs.

“I understand that completely, but he’s not gonna disrespect you or me. Not in my house,” she says, bursting a lightbulb.

“Dean, I think you should apologize,” Sam says, breathing quickly.

“Um I’m really, really sorry,” Dean says, gripping the arms of the chair tightly. Closing her eyes, Naomi fixes the lights.

“Apology accepted,” she says, taking a seat and crossing her legs.

“So, someone said something about ancient books?” Charlie asks, clapping her hands and interlocking her fingers.

 ...

They’d all piled into Naomi’s ’01 Lincoln Navigator, heading on a very long road trip. Finally arriving in Potomac, southern Maryland—31 hours later—a place Castielle hasn’t been since she was a little girl. They’re pulling up to… a goddamn mansion! It’s bathed in perfect sunlight, causing it to appear magical. Her four-bedroom house in Idaho was great, but this is… this is nearly indescribable. There’s a large gate—about ten feet high—which opens after her mother types in a code. The gates have the large monogram M on the front, which confuses her.

“We’re here!” She yells, waking up the rest of the car. She jumps out of the car—gasping at the water fountain that appears to have marble goddesses holding jars—and runs up the seven decorative stairs that lead to the front door. There’s a double-door, and the archway has beautiful carvings. There are at least ten windows in the front of the house alone. Everyone slowly catches up with her, in awe, save for her mother.

“Guys, I think you’re drooling.” Her mother says, smiling. Unlocking the door, they all gasp in unison. What greets them is a beautiful foyer, there’s a large chandelier hanging, an arched staircase, and its dramatic design calls out the acquisitiveness within her. There are two marble statues by the stairs, both goddesses in teal robes.

“Jesus, this is… what is this Sammy?” Dean asks; duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Naomi steps forward, stretching her hands to the decorative ceiling.

“This… is the Novak Manor, or because of my maiden name, the Mackintosh Coven!” Naomi says excitedly, clapping her hands together. Below the stairs are two pillars, and in the center of the floor—right where both stairs start—is a Wiccan pentagram.  The foyer also has antique couches and armchairs.

“Mom, why didn’t you ever tell me about this place?” She asks, shaking her head confusedly.

“Well, since there hasn’t been an official coven in a very long time… to be honest, I forgot about this place. But when I remembered the books, I remembered this place.” Naomi explains, and then she snaps her fingers. Everyone’s luggage manifests, not just from the car, but from the Novak’s home, as well as Noelle’s, Sam and Dean’s, and even Charlies. A dozen bags appear, tagged with each owner’s name.

“Is-is this all of our shit?” Dean asks, picking up a duffel bag tagged ‘Dean W.’

“Yes, since I’m sure you’ll be staying for quite some time,” Naomi concludes. “Movere,” Naomi invokes, and their bags disappear.

“Okay, love the Houdini act, but where’s our stuff?” Charlie asks, raising a brow.

“I put it in your assigned room, there are nine bedrooms by the way. And there are also thirteen and a half bathrooms.” Naomi says, walking towards what appears to be a living room with more antique furniture.

 ...

“Now, this house has been in my family for five generations. But it became less necessary since there wasn’t a large number of witches popping up since its sole purpose is to house them comfortably; to serve as a coven.” She says, sitting down on the couch. The living room has two marble pillars, one on each side of the fireplace. There’s a portrait of the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ above the fireplace. There are two large armchairs, with a mahogany coffee table. There’s a grandfather clock off in the corner behind the couch, and a record player in the opposite corner.

“What happened to all the witches?” Noelle asks, taking a seat in the armchair.

“When hunters slaughtered enough of us, we got the message and fled the country; the continent. Some went to what is now known as Brazil, others to Australia, Bangladesh, et cetera.” Naomi explains, manifesting a glass of red wine in her hand.

“Wow, a man really will kill what he doesn’t understand,” Charlie says, sulking.

“Hey!” Dean protests.

“Well, it’s kinda true; if we don’t understand it or can’t control it, we kill it,” Sam says, earning a glare from his brother.

“Moving on! In here is the music room,” Naomi says, walking into the next room which holds more antique and marble furniture. As well as a grand piano, and 18th-century oil paintings of masquerade balls and music galas.

“This place is so beautiful, mom,” Castielle says in wonderment, and her mother throws an arm around her. Following a corridor, they explore more of the house. Naomi pulls a large set of keys out her pocket, unlocking a hidden door that blends with the wallpaper. Opening the door, she reveals a large study, each wall lined with books, as well as a fireplace and sitting chairs.

“Ah, here is it. Welcome, pupils, to where you will advance yourselves and become the best Wiccans you can be.” Naomi says, and everyone—with the exception of Dean—gasps. Running inside, Noelle, Sam, Castielle, and Charlie all touch the books; appearing drawn to them.

“This-this feels like it’s mine, you know?” Noelle says to Charlie, and she nods; lost in the feeling she gets just from  _touching_  the books.

“It’s eerie,” Charlie says, smiling.

“Now, if you look out that window, you’ll see the rear terraced patio. That cost a fortune, plus the pool installation!” Naomi says, shaking her head.

“Wow, they must have really wanted you guys comfortable.” Dean comments, leaning against the doorway with his arms folded.

“Well, we Wiccans naturally have a covetous nature,” Naomi says, laughing when Dean rolls his ridiculous green eyes. “Alright guys, let’s keep it moving.” She says, clapping her hands.

 ...

“This is the dining room, with all mahogany wood and crystal glasses as well as silver utensils and china,” Naomi says proudly. “Nothing but the best.” She concludes. The dining room has a large mahogany table in the center, with ten chairs around it.

 ...

“This would be the gourmet kitchen,” she says, waving her hand to remove the blinds; flooding the room with sunlight. There’s nearly two dozen cabinets, an island in the center, with marble countertops. There’s a stainless steel stovetop with eight burners, a double-decker oven, two side-by-side microwaves, and a giant stainless steel refrigerator.

 ...

In the family room, there’s three couches, an antique table with a Monopoly board with real cash and gold pieces, a large throw rug, and a 95-inch flat screen television.

 ...

“This is the parking garage, there are five spaces, which are occupied as you can see.” She says, pointing to the five amazing cars. One is a 1990 Chevy Corvette, another is a Mercedes-Benz, and parked across from those two are a Lexus, and a 1970 Firebird, and a down the center—catching Castielle’s eye instantly—is an electric blue Cadillac CTS!

“Don’t touch a goddamn car without permission, understood?” Naomi says, folding her arms. Everyone nods in unison.

“So, does this conclude our tour?” Charlie asks, smiling hopefully.

“Yes ma’am, I hope you guys liked it.” Naomi answers, smiling in return.

 ...

When everyone is settled into their assigned rooms—each having a have a telephone, like a hotel—it’s late in the afternoon. Castielle feels… drained. Her mother did her the kindness of the tour, but she knows that pass this point, it’s up to her. She feels a weight slowly resting itself on her shoulders, the weight of responsibility, of people depending upon her; the infinite patience she’ll have to find so she can properly guide them. She’ll have to carry herself, and always know the right thing to say; the things that inspire. Her mom may be the coven mother, but she’s the coven  _leader_ , she has the final say so;  _she_  lays down the gavel. And starting now, she doesn’t get to lay down the gauntlet, not for a long time to come. It feels like it’s far too much, but her journey begins now. Going to her large bathroom, she finds scissors in the drawer and stands over the sink. Grabbing a section of her hair, she cuts it. Grabbing another section, she cuts it, and another, and then another. When she’s done, her hair is a few inches below her chin. Looking herself in the eye, lost, she smiles emptily.

“I am the chosen one, I can save them; I  _will_  rescue the lost ones. Not because I choose to, but because it is my obligation.” She says, and nods, wiping away her tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya liked it, lemme know if there are some grammatical errors that are confusing. Thank you to all of those that are following this story!
> 
> Castielle - http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_642/set?id=207702192  
> Dean - http://www.polyvore.com/dean_winchester/set?id=198773833  
> Sam - http://www.polyvore.com/sam_winchester/set?id=198097302  
> Charlie - http://www.polyvore.com/charlie_bradbury/set?id=191445401  
> Naomi - http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_611/set?id=207209682  
> Noelle - http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_656/set?id=207985219


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, I hope you unfortunate bastards enjoy my ramblings!

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/youre_safe_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=206888098)

The flow of energy from within, it’s almost unbelievable. She feels connected; rooted to the earth, to people. But especially, to other Wiccans. She’s holding hands with Noelle and Charlie, they’re all sitting in a circle in the living room.

“Come on guys, do it with me.” Castielle prompts and they all close their eyes. “Focus nobis, ad magica, ubi insidias.” They chant, slowly swaying their bodies side to side in unison. In the middle of their circle is a chalice, with 3 drops of white vinegar inside.

“Separate only one hand,” Charlie says, and they all hold out their right hand in unison. “Caraway seeds; for mind and body.” She says, dropping the seeds in the chalice.

“Bay leaves, for sight.” Noelle says, dropping it into the chalice.

“And crushed anise, to protect those that are lost.” Castielle says, completing the concoction. A light begins to glow from the chalice, causing them to smile.

“Focus nobis, ad magica, ubi insidias. Focus nobis, ad magica, ubi insidias. Focus nobis, ad magica, ubi insidias.” They chant in unison, rocking side to side. Opening their eyes, they look to the chalice and Castielle snaps her fingers. The glowing light rises, and then strikes her in the eyes; knocking her backward.

“Okay girls, I found these in the basement and—oh god!” Naomi says, running to Castielle to see if she’s alright; dropping a wooden box with a decorative pentagram on it.

“Mom, I think I can-can  _see_.” Castielle says, sitting up. Her eyes are glowing brightly, and she smiles wide.

“Baby, what do you see?” Naomi asks, and Castielle snaps her fingers; manifesting a notepad. She writes on it in with her mind, jotting down locations and addresses.

“Girls, so many that need help; guidance.” She answers, smiling brightly. Soon, the light flows from her eyes; causing her skin to glow; to radiate this brilliant light.

“Hey, I’m not sure where the targets are but I found a cross—holy shit!” Dean shouts, eyes wide, looking at the confusing yet beautiful sight before him. And suddenly, a hole burns through his shirt and jacket sleeve; a light flowing out. Soon, the light fades from her, and her body goes limp; her falling unconscious.

 ...

She’s lying in bed, ever so peaceful. He’s holding her hand, feeling drawn to her. She hasn’t shown any signs of waking, and it’s been an hour. She looks so beautiful in her sleep, even with the badly cropped hair.

“You know; you really are something. You’ve got this fierce power, and it scares me… but it also enamors me.” He says chuckling, rubbing his thumb back and forth across her soft hand. Suddenly her bedroom door opens, revealing Sam who looks worried.

“You’ve been by her side for a while Dean, it’s time to get up and do something. She’s not getting up any—”

“Have you no faith, Samuel?” She rasps, catching their attention. She smiles weakly, looking very tired.

“Uhh, not really… were you like eavesdropping or something?” He asks, smiling; amused.

“Nope, I was just aware of you guys’ presence. And I heard what you said Dean,” she explains, winking at the older Winchester.

“Well, since you were aware, you were technically eavesdropping.” Dean says, and they share a laugh together.

“Cas, Naomi said she’d found something, right around the time you did your firefly thing and then passed out.” Sam says, folding his arms.

“Really, what did she find?” She asks, sitting up.

“I don’t know; she didn’t open it; said she was waiting for you.” Sam explains, and at that, she swings her legs over the side of the bed; standing up. She reveals that she’s only dressed in a nude slip and gasps. Snapping her fingers, she covers herself in a black long sleeve velvet dress, with gladiator sandals and a velvet choker to boot.

“Well boys, let’s go see what she found.” Castielle says, touching both of their shoulders and teleporting to where everyone is.

 ...

They find themselves in the library, seeing Charlie perched on a desk; reading with Noelle while Naomi practically guards the box.

“Cassie, you’re up!” Naomi says excitedly, standing to attention.

“Yes, ma’am, and apparently you’ve found something.” She says, walking over to the desk.

“Well, yes. I think as the leader; you should open it.” Naomi says, moving aside. Taking a seat behind the desk, she pulls the box closer; causing Sam, Charlie, and Noelle to close in on her.

“Let’s have a looksee,” she says, opening the 3x5 box; gasping at what lays in wait. Four daggers are inside, with obsidian blades. Each handle is a different color, one is sapphire, one is jade, one is violet, and the other is hazel colored.

“Oh my god…” Charlie whispers, reaching for the jade one. “I-I feel like this is mine,” she says, grasping the handle tightly. Noelle snatches the violet handled one, Sam goes for the hazel, and Castielle slowly grabs the sapphire one. Holding it in her hand, she’s struck with feeling; one of ownership, of completeness.

“Guys, I think your situation was foreseen long before we stumbled across it.” Naomi says, smiling wide.

“What makes you say that?” Sam asks, unable to pull his eyes from his dagger.

“Well, you guys are Wiccans, and those blades you’re holding are anthames; used for rituals or as a talisman.” Naomi explains, taking a seat in the armchair by the fireplace.

“Mom, why are they these colors?” Castielle asks, raising a brow.

“Um, well, colors have a special meaning in witchcraft—which you know—so maybe someone foresaw people with your abilities coming here.” Naomi answers, shrugging.

“Invenio,” Charlie invokes, and a book flies off a shelf and into her hands. “We should know what these colors mean, ‘cause I don’t remember.” She says, opening the book.

“Well, tell us when you find something useful.” Castielle says, and Charlie nods absentmindedly. After a few minutes of silence, she announces her discoveries.

“Ah! Here, I found something.” She says, smiling wide. “Okay, so um, green signifies fertility, luck, grown rejuvenation, and herbal healing!” She says excitedly, smiling big.

“Okay, what else does it say?” Sam asks, twirling his blade.

“Well, blue symbolizes tranquility, astral projection, understanding, patience, devotion, honor, loyalty, wisdom, protection—I think this means you, Cas.” Charlie says, winking at Castielle who smiles in return.

“Anything a-about purple?” Noelle asks hopefully, edging closer.

“Yep! Violet/purple represents power, sentimentality, psychic abilities, and protective energy. Well, good things are to come, Ellie.” Charlie says, practically grinning ear to ear.

“Chucky, get to Sammy’s color already.” Dean says, cleaning his gun.

“Okay, okay. Sam, brown stands for the earth, trees, telepathy, and protection of familiars, pets, and animals.” She says, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Fancy, I get the crappiest ability out of them all.” He says, rolling his eyes and making a pouty bitchface.

“Don’t be sad Sam, when you’re in battle you can summon a chipmunk to help you out.” Dean says, chuckling.

“Well, I mean it  _is_  rare for a boy to be a Wiccan, so I guess this is just your calling.” Charlie says, shrugging sympathetically.

“No, his power is special. He can call on Gaea, and she will help him. She is mother earth, and now he has a strong connection to her.” Castielle says, and Sam slowly smiles; teeth and all.

 _“Nice one,”_ Naomi says to her telepathically, raising a glass to her.

“Alright guys, we need to do two things: one, we need to find those girls on my list, and two, we need to train. Whether it’s with combat skills or with magic, you guys need to get stronger.” Castielle says, putting as much authority in her voice as she can.

“Okay um, where do we start?” Noelle asks, her attention grabbed completely, along with everyone else’s.

“Well, obviously we cannot convince others of the wonder of Wicca if we cannot harness the greatness ourselves. So, let’s read and train mentally.” She answers, smirking.

 ...

She’s dressed in a sports bra and stretch pants, with Pumas on her feet. They’re all doing tai chi on the patio, to take hold of the power within and focus it. They understood the moves surprisingly easy, and all move in unison.

“Alright, and now transition to Hoo style. Great, and then slowly hold the ball and ward off—nice!” She says, impressed.

“Can we do ‘Snake Creeps through the Grass’ one more time?” Noelle asks, pouting. “I just don’t think I got it,” she says, sighing.

“Sure, just move slowly… alright, then sweep the leg.” She says, her voice straining when she moves and speaks simultaneously. “Perfect!” She says, clapping her hands.

“Can we please move onto combat moves?” Sam asks impatiently, and Castielle scowls.

“Are you running this show?” She asks.

“No,” he answers, lowering his eyes.

“Then zip it and do what I tell you—know what? Forget it, let’s practice!” She exclaims, moving them all to the basement where punching bags and training equipment has been set up.

“God, tell us when your gonna do that! It gives me motion sickness,” Charlie says, resting a hand on her stomach.

“Sure, when I feel like it. Charlie, you’re up; come pivot then punch the bag.” She instructs, holding the punching bag in place. Charlie does, pivoting and then following through with a strong strike.

“Great, now do that fifteen more times. Same with you Noelle,” she instructs, and they get to work.

“And what should I do?” Sam asks, curious.

“Well, you’re already trained with this shit. So, I want you to practice this.” She says, manifesting a target on the wall. Squaring her body, she strikes her hand forward; hurling an electric ball of energy at the target; scaring everyone.

“What the hell?!” Sam exclaims, having ducked for cover. She just shrugs, manifesting a new target, having burned the other one.

“Do it, I know you can. Just dig to your core, find your power, find your catalyst, and then  _do it_.” She says, smiling and rubbing his shoulder. When he takes her same position, squaring his body and striking forward, nothing happens. He tries several more times, and still nothing.

“God, you make this look so easy.” He says, taking a seat on the ground.

“Are you giving up?” She asks, putting her hands on hips when he nods. “Okay, this should be a good enough catalyst.” She says, snapping her fingers—and Dean appears.

 ...

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, quickly rising to his feet. She causes Dean to levitate, body strung tight.

“Well, you could speak Latin and save him before. But this time, try to use your power; your magic.” She says, throwing Dean.

“Sammy!” He yells, flying into a wall, hard.

“Stop it! This isn’t the way,” Sam says, reaching for Dean.

“No Sam, this seems to be a great inspiration for you to move your ass. So, if you like your brother in one piece, I suggest you do just that.” She says, narrowing her eyes and throwing Dean into the opposite wall across the room. No one else seems to notice this, and Sam pants; feeling helpless. Closing his eyes, he tries to focus; outstretching his hand towards Dean. He opens his eyes, seeing nothing has happened. Castielle picks Dean up, then throws him to the floor, and then the ceiling, just to let him fall to the floor.

“Sammy… please…” Dean strains, reaching for Sam. Blood is dripping from his mouth, and finally, he feels something snap within. He feels a strain in his gut, but he rips Dean from her hold; dragging Dean towards his feet. His brother looks up at him, slowly closing his eyes.

“W-what have you  _done_?” He asks, punching Castielle in the chest… causing her to fly across the room into a wall.

 ...

They watch Sam, contained in a room separate from them. Castielle had asked Dean if she could do this, if she could tap into Sam’s magic with extreme methods, and he’d reluctantly approved.

“So, when should I pull him out of this?” She asks, leaning over to Dean. He’s rubbing his chin, contemplative.

“I don’t know; do you think this is enough?” He asks in return, and she shrugs. Stretching her hand forward, she closes her eyes; gauging the damage that’s been done to Sam’s psyche. So far, he’s just upset; taking out his rage on what appears to be an incapacitated Castielle. He isn’t using dark magic, and he isn’t using magic fueled on rage… yet.

“Yeah, let’s pull him out.” She answers, nodding her head and wiping away the illusion Sam’s been placed in.

“Fucking fix him, fix—what the hell?” Sam grunts, looking around wildly. “What did you do?” He asks, stalking up to her.

“You needed inspiration because I won’t always be here to lend you a hand and channel your energy; your focus.” She says, folding her arms.

“Dean, did you agree to this?” He asks, flailing his arms.

“Well, yeah, she’s right; you need the proper inspiration. Whether it’s my suffering or someone in danger,” Dean answers, also folding his arms.

“Samuel, you need to tap into this power. What did you  _feel_  when you saw that? Huh, your brother, your protector, being beaten to a pulp—his body being used like my own personal ragdoll. Like he doesn’t matter, even when he’s broken and dying; he didn’t fucking—”

“Ah!” Sam screams, punching a hole in the wall nearby. “Enraged, I felt angry and helpless. Until I didn’t,” he explains, removing his fist from the wall. When they see it isn’t bleeding everyone circles around him, clapping.

“Way to go, Samantha!” Charlie says, and Noelle pats him on the back.

“You did it, Sam, you augmented your powers. I’m proud, but let’s work on doing that in a more controlled manner.” Castielle says, smiling.

“I did? I mean, wow, that’s awesome!” Sam says, laughing wildly, running a hand through his hair.

“So, like how did you do that? I mean come on, you’re so new and…” Noelle says, and her voice fades as her and Charlie drag Sam off to the punching bags. 

“You know; you better teach him how to control that shit. Or else,” Dean whispers in her ear, smacking her butt as he walks away.

 ...

“Okay guys, it’s time for the magical portion of our work. Because tonight, we’re going to locate a blossoming Wiccan.” She announces, taking a seat behind the desk in the library.

“Well, what’re we supposed to do?” Noelle asks, taking a seat across from her. “I know Latin is something used frequently and I don’t know it too—”

“Capit,” Castielle invokes, waving a hand at Noelle. Instantly, she’ struck with feeling; understanding.

“Um, why did you say comprehend? Oh-oh my god, I know Latin; I actually got what you said!” Noelle cheers, smiling brightly.

“Anyone else not too knowledgeable with Latin? No, okay. Now, with you specifically Noelle, I need you to learn to cast spells; to invoke things.” Castielle explains, smiling.

“O-okay, how?” Noelle asks, shaking her head; confused.

“You’ve gotta speak Latin and put power behind your words—like this.” Charlies says. “Movere,” she invokes, shifting the desk lamp from left to right.

“Oh, I don’t think I could ever do that.” Noelle says sheepishly, laughing nervously. “I used magic once, out of stress.” She says, shaking her head.

“Sure you can, just try it. Latin is a very powerful language because it’s the language of the gods.” Castielle says, resting her feet on the desk.

“Well, w-what should I try?” Noelle asks, twiddling her thumbs. “Um v-veni ad me,” Noelle says and frowns when nothing happens.

“Focus Noelle, what do you want? Figure it out, and then focus on it. Again,” Castielle says, waving her hand for Noelle to continue.

 ...

Closing her eyes, she pictures something she holds dear. Her necklace, a charm necklace she got for her twelfth birthday; how beautiful and magical it appeared. She thinks of how the weight felt in her hands; how chilly it got when she slept facing the fan at night.

“Veni ad me, nunc.” She invokes, exhaling slowly. Suddenly, the window behind Castielle opens, and a necklace flies in; landing in Noelle’s waiting palm. Opening her eyes, she smiles, seeing her most prized possession. 

“Well done,” Castielle congratulates, smiling.

“Elle, you did it!” Charlie cheers, shaking her shoulders excitedly. “But uh, what is that?” She asks, squinting.

“My mom gave it to me, she won it at some fair awhile back.” She says, smiling happily. It’s an alchemy necklace with tiny white rocks inside a glass vial.

“Alright guys, to be honest, I don’t feel like training you. So, let’s join hands and I’ll impart my combat abilities on you.” Castielle says, holding out her hands. Noelle and Charlie each take a hand, leaving room for Sam. He looks up from a book, confused.

“What? There’s nothing you can teach me that I don’t know,” he says dismissively, going back to his book.

“Your right, I'll reach over your head. Dean!” She yells, and her voice travels from the library down the hallway; magically. He runs with his gun in hand; angry.

“What the hell was that?” He asks, panting.

“We need your expertise, join the circle please.” She requests gently, smiling softly when he pockets his gun and walks up cautiously.

 

He’s struck with feeling, an unfamiliar one of… power; connection. She smiles, her blue eyes seeming to sparkle. She looks to the sky, closing her eyes.

“Artemis, goddess of the hunt; share with us the gifts from this champion. Take his offerings and bless it upon the less advanced,” she invokes, and her eyes snap open; glowing brightly. An electric energy flows from her hands to stretch forward and wrap around Dean’s; spreading outward to Noelle and Charlie.

“Gratias tibi, Deus meus.” Charlie says, her eyes wide and glowing as well.

“Gratias tibi, Dianae.” Noelle says, the light stretching up her arms to wind around her neck; flowing to her eyes; illuminating them.

 ...

Dean’s eyes are glowing, and a light is shining from his center. She feels the strength being shared from his body as well as her own, the power being spread to her students.

“Release us, great goddess.” Castielle says, and their bodies immediately relax; going limp.

“Whoa,” Noelle says, sounding sedated. “That was trippy,” she says, smiling lopsidedly. She grabs ahold of Charlie, attempting to punch her in the face—which Charlie successfully parries; nearly hitting Noelle in the face—and Noelle ducks back, falling into a fighting stance. Quickly, she kicks, and Charlie blocks it; countering with an elbow to Noelle’s face—which she blocks last minute with her palms. Running, Noelle does a quick somersault; flinging a knife at Charlie when she’s in a crouching stance, which Charlie dodges easily. Grabbing a battleax, she swirls it, aiming for Noelle.

“Come on Ellie, don’t give up so easily.” Charlie taunts, spinning while she continues to twirl the ax in her hands. Doing a cat-spring, Noelle runs at Charlie; closing the distance between them. In the last second, she jumps in the air, curling her knees to her chest, she hurdles over Charlie; landing being her to kick her legs out from under her; stealing the ax when she falls. Bringing down hard, she stops inches from Charlie’s neck.

“I think I’m just alright, thank you.” Noelle says, smiling triumphantly. Suddenly, they hear clapping behind them.

“You guys have-have impressed me great—oh, fuck it. That was  _amazing_!” Castielle says, smiling excitedly.

“Yeah, I don’t know how you did it but that was awesome.” Dean says, grinning.

“Well, I guess they wanted to test out their new abilities.” Sam says, shaking his head.

“I think this went really well, with Dean’s mixed martial arts and my krav maga training; this turned out fantastic!” Castielle says, hitting Dean on the chest playfully; laughing. “I think we’re ready to get going guys,” she says confidently, placing her hands on her hips.

“Uh ready for what exactly?” Sam asks.

“For our little witch hunt, the non-lethal kind.” She explains, smirking.

 ...

It’s a cool night in Shenandoah, everything is peaceful and beautiful; the town having fallen asleep a little while ago. She decided it would be a good night to go on a walk, just to get some fresh air before she has to study. The damp grass feels nice against her bare feet, and the flowers smell fresh; sweet. Her crochet dress hangs loosely on her slim form, and her shawl barely keeps her warm. She looks back to her little trailer, and ventures off the property; closer to the woods.

 ...

“Cas, you’re sure this is the place? If you’re giving me directions via witch-GPS, I’m not for it.” Dean says, accelerating.

“We’re running out of time, I can feel it. Why is it that time is never on our side?” She says lowly, her eyes glowing.

“I um, I can feel it too Castielle.” Noelle says, shaking her head. “This girl, something’s going down.” She says, shuddering a bit.

 ...

The way nature makes its presence known at night, it soothes her. The sound of rabbits skittering about, moles and shrews burrowing into the ground; it’s so peaceful. Sometimes you hear a deer’s hooves hitting the ground, usually running from you; which just adds to the true beauty of this evergreen forest. Sighing, she leans back against a tree; bathed in moonlight.

 ...

“Dean, can’t you drive any faster?” Charlie asks, biting her fingernails. He huffs, shaking his head; annoyed.

“We’re in the sticks, I’m not willingly risking your life or my own. Jesus,” he says, subtly upping his speed a little.

 ...

She hears a twig snap, and gasps at what’s behind her. It’s-it’s a black bear, and she slowly stands up, backing away in the direction of home. It stalks toward her, and she breaks for it; sprinting for her house.

“HELP!!” She yells, and she feels something sharp slice across her back; knocking her to the ground. She falls, rolling down a hill getting cut by thorns, dirty from mud, and twigs and leaves in her hair. She can still hear the bear coming for her, but she can’t see anything. Backing away as quietly as she can, she suddenly feels what she knows is a wet snout near her face, and the air rushing out of the bear’s nose.

 ...

Jumping out of the car, she sprints for the woods; guided by this impulse within her.

“Cas! Don’t go in there, it’s not safe!” Dean calls after her, but she continues anyway. It’s dark, so she waves her hand.

“Luceat!” She says, lighting up the entire area; behind her and ahead of her. Running deeper into this strange forest, she listens closely when she hears something.

 _“Help me, somebody!”_ voice screams, and she runs in the direction of that sound.

 ...

The bear claws up her arms when she blocks it from hitting her face, knocking her backward. It stands on two feet, roaring. When it tries to slam down on her, she looks away, putting her hands up defensively. Suddenly, a bright blue light shines from her hands; wrapping around her completely. When the bear lands, it’s blown backward; landing on a branch, impaling itself. When it falls limp, the light goes away. Sitting up, she looks at her shaking hands; trembling. She hears twigs snap before she sees this radiating light coming towards her, surrounding this raven-haired girl with electric blue eyes.

“A-Adina, are you okay?” The girl asks, slowly approaching her. Feeling weak suddenly, she falls flat; shaking uncontrollably.

“It was a-a bear; I knew better than to come out here… it’s too dangerous at night.” She explains weakly, feeling this wetness all over her back and arms.

 ...

This girl has suffered a grisly attack, her body is clawed up and horrific. Soon, she hears pounding footsteps slow behind her. Shaking her head, she rubs the girl’s forehead comfortingly. Barely feeling the usual shocking spark that comes when she finds one of her own, she sobs.

“Cas, what happened?” Dean asks, shotgun in hand.

“I-I’m too late,” she rasps, her voice thick with emotion. And then it hits her, this girl would be dead if  _something_  hadn’t saved her. Touching the girl’s chest, she closes her eyes to focus. Within her heart, she sees little traces of magic and begins to laugh through her tears.

“Is there something humorous about this that I’m missing?” Dean asks confused, and she shushes him.

“Tui gratia Iovis gratia sit cures.” She invokes, and a light radiates from within her; spreading to her hands and then to the girl’s frail body. She’d nearly stopped breathing, her heartbeat so very weak. The energy sinks into the girl’s skin, knitting it back together; healing her internal injuries as well.

 ...

Gasping, she wakes up from-from some place, it was dark and cold and so lonely; like an island. She looks around to find herself in the woods still, but with a few sets of eyes looking at her worriedly.

“Who are you people?” She asks, but feels bad soon after. She doesn’t know why, but she feels like she just insulted an acquaintance.

“I’m Castielle and these are my friends, that’s Dean, his brother Sam, their friend Charlie, and Noelle. I know you’re confused, maybe as to why you’re still alive and why that bear isn’t. If you’d like to have those questions answered, then come with us. Please,” she says smoothly, and Adina hesitates for only a moment before she nods.

“I am confused, and I don’t know why, but I believe you can give me clarity.” She says, standing up and lending Castielle a hand so she can rise too.

“Fantastic, let’s go! Everyone, hold hands.” She says, and when everyone is in a circle, she looks to the sky, beaming them from here to her manor in Potomac; lightning striking across the sky in her wake. 

 ...

“Castielle, I can’t believe you left my fucking car!” Dean whisper-screams, keeping his down while they’re in the hallway.

“Look, I’m sorry, would you like to go back and get it?” She asks, closing her robe and tying the belt to cover her slip. He nods frantically, and so she teleports them back to the woods—landing in the front seat.

“Jesus, Cas! You can’t keep doing that, fuck.” He yells, resting his head on the steering wheel. She slowly walks to fingers up his shoulder, tapping on his ear. He looks at her, annoyed at first, but then he perks up when he sees her robe is open; the swell of her milky breasts revealed. Silently, she creeps over to him, gently straddling his hips. Grabbing his face in her hands, enjoying the feel of his stubble, she kisses him. Softly, she moves her lips over his, exploring his mouth with her tongue as she deepens the kiss. She reaches down to unbuckle his belt, quickly unzipping his pants.

 ...

Resting his hands on her hips, her movements ruck her slip up; revealing that she’s wearing black thigh highs, a lace garter belt, and-and no panties.  _Fuck_. Kissing her deeply, he fondles her tongue with his own; tasting her. When she finally has his cock out, he hisses at the cold air in the car.

“I want you, Dean, please.” She whispers against his lips, and so he reaches down to rub her pussy; his cold fingers causing her to flinch. Rubbing her clit, he slides his middle finger inside her tight heat, and they both sigh. He easily slides another finger in, thumbing her clit while he fingers her deeply.

“You are so tight,” he whispers, kissing her lips then sucking on her neck; licking as he goes. When she starts bucking against him, he pulls his fingers out, grabbing hold of his aching cock. She sits up to give him room, then slowly lowers herself; her tight wetness practically sucking him inside. She rides him, and throws his head back; so she licks his neck, biting along his length.

“Dean, fuck, kiss me.” She says, and he does; twirling their tongues as they both try to invade the other’s mouth.

“I-I’ve missed this, baby.” He says hesitantly, and she sits back; looking him in the eye. She smiles a little, kissing him once more, and then she rides him; hard. 

“I’ve missed this too, Dean.” She whispers, snaking her arms behind his head to rest on his neck. “I’ve missed us,” she says, arching her back when he thrust up suddenly; hitting her special spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... that ended quickly, I think. If you think my descriptions for the magic being used isn't on par with what your familiar with, lemme know.
> 
> Castielle's outfit for this chapter is here https://www.polyvore.com/untitled_759/set?id=209648372 so enjoy.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty long, but something I setup in an earlier chapter pays off in this one. Well, sorta.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/youre_lost_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=205153551)

_Deep inside a crypt in Rome, a witch with white-blonde hair is chanting over a bubbling cauldron; writing symbols on her body in her own blood._

_“_ _Parcae, mandata mea. Set liberum meorum, Nona, quæ neverant propagationem; succides eam. Decima, et mensus est; Non arbitror. Profata, et disperdam illud; melius est._ _” She invokes, being forced backwards by the blast of dark colors that shoots toward the sky. Smirking, she spits in the cauldron, continuing the ritual._

_“Viduus, quos dimiserant liberos et subiugaverunt in te; Invoco te.” She says, the power of the dark incantation knocking her down to her knees; bowing her body forward._

_“Behemoth vestro surgendi tempus advenerit: Non amplius expectare. Surge!” She yells, black lightning striking from the sky to her body; shooting out through her stomach into the cauldron. She screams as her body is used to bridge the gap, slowly destroying her as her monsters are born. When the onslaught of power stops, she slumps forward, watching as the cauldron bubbles over; emptying out. The dark goop that hits the ground is like liquid tar, but it slowly separates into several piles; coming together—rising up—to a humanoid form. She smiles up at them as they shriek and holler, panting as she forces herself to stand._

_“You know your purpose, go!” She barks and they screech to the sky; running off into the night._

... 

It’s quiet around the kitchen, everyone wanting to say something, but appearing afraid to do so. Adina looks… pale, to say the least. Her brunette hair is in a short ponytail, with a few hairs loose; attempting to cover the obvious bruise around her eye. So, she finally breaks the silence.

“So, Addy, how do you feel?” She asks, causing the girl to pause, a spoonful of Cap’n Crunch still midair.

“I feel… I don’t know, blessed to be alive.” Adina answers weakly, continuing to eat her cereal.

“Are you religious?” Charlie asks before she can stop herself, stuffing a bagel in her mouth nervously.

“Yes I am, I’m a Christian, why do you ask?” She asks in return, raising a brow.

“W-Well, because you said ‘blessed’ instead of ‘thankful’, that’s all.” Charlie explains, adding jelly as well as cream cheese to a new bagel.

“Chucky, don’t you think that’s a little rude?” Dean asks, chuckling nervously.

“No, considering Castielle _is_ the one that saved her, I can see why she’d ask that.” Noelle chimes in defensively, taking a bite out of her banana.

“Forgive my friends, they’re deficient.” Castielle says, chuckling. “You can feel blessed if you like, but you should know that the things you are gonna witness will seem… un-Christian.” She says cautiously, waiting for Adina’s reactions—which hits almost immediately.

“The only thing un-Christian is something of the devil, which I will  _not_  participate in.” Adina says, dropping her spoon into her cereal bowl.

“Do you think what you did was an act of God, or something else?” Castielle asks, setting her plate of food aside.

“I don’t know what it was, I barely recall anything.” Adina says dismissively.

“You’re lying.” Castielle says matter-of-factly.                     

“N-No I am not; I genuinely don’t remember.” Adina says, shaking her head.

“Own up to what you are Adina, it’ll only hinder you if you don’t.” Charlie says, folding her arms.

“Accepting these special gifts, what’s so wrong with that?” Noelle asks, confused.

“Please, take my hands.” Castielle requests, her palms outstretched towards Adina. She slowly rests her hands in Castielle’s gasping at the strange spark. They close their eyes, and Castielle focuses as much positive energy as she can muster; tapping into Adina’s mind as she goes.

 _“There’s nothing to fear, Adina. No one will hurt you here, so put everything your family told you in a box and lock it up. Open your mind, free it.”_ She says to her telepathically.She uses her magic to wash away the damage fear has caused, adding clarity; putting Adina’s mind to ease.

... 

Gasping, Adina snatches her hands back; looking confused, wiping the tears that stream down her face. She looks at Castielle and only finds comfort in the girl’s face, so she sobs; throwing herself into Castielle’s welcoming arms. 

“ _Why?_ ” She sobs brokenly. “Why would they poison my mind like this? It’s not fair; it’s not right.” She cries, and Castielle just wraps her arms around her tightly. 

“They fear what they don’t understand, so they run to someone they believe can protect them from the unknown.” Castielle explains, rocking Adina back and forth slowly.

“But, I feel like they knew what I am—somehow, and hid it from me.” She says, sniffling.

“They can’t hide what they don’t even know, just let it go, Addy. Don’t hold onto it baby, don’t let his ruin you; they can’t hurt you anymore.” She soothes, and Adina cries even harder, burying her face in Castielle’s neck.

“Y-You promise?” She sniffles, shuddering from the chills of crying so hard.

“I promise, you’re safe. So just let it go, it’s okay. You don’t have to worry because we are here for you— _I_ am here for you.” She says, rubbing her back as she continues to sob.

...

Castielle and Adina may not be able to see it, but Castielle is glowing; consuming Adina in a radiant and celestial light. They see her, and she appears other-worldly.

... 

“Alright Adina, you missed out on the training we’ve been doing. So, we’re gonna sit in a circle, hold hands, and—”

“Sing kumbaya?” Dean interjects, grinning.

“No, dick, we’re going to meditate and try to share with her what we learned and the power that’s coursing through us.” Castielle says, smiling joyfully as everyone eagerly grabs the nearest hand to them.

“What are you gonna do, what’s gonna happen?” Adina asks, worried, and Charlie smirks.

“You will feel the most amazing thing you’ve ever felt,” Charlie answers, closing her eyes and relaxing her face. Everyone else follows suit, and so Adina goes along with it. Touching hands with them… it’s a wonderful but confusing feeling. She feels nice like everything is very calm and connected.

... 

“Artemis, goddess of the hunt; share the abilities we now possess. Hecate, the mother of our power, pass it on to this newcomer.” Castielle says, feeling the magic from within stretching out to the group; passing from everyone until it reaches Adina; she can feel her body arching.

“What’re you doing, what is this?!” Adina asks, panicked, opening her eyes to see electric light flowing from Castielle’s heart.

“Say the incantation Noelle, sing a hymn and show us your power.” Castielle says, her voice altered; sounding like many.

“Full moon and candles, magic times three; we summon the so mote it be!” Noelle invokes the incantation in a beautiful voice. Her song sounds… like a Siren’s song; enchanting.

...

She feels this-this  _power_  rising in her chest like she’s a flower blooming. Everyone’s eyes are glowing, and she assumes hers are glowing too. She can strength, it’s rushing through her veins; being carved in her bones; forged in her muscle memory.

“What’s-what’s  _happening_  to me? I feel… so mmm, great.” She says, moaning a bit.

“Hecate, Artemis, great goddesses who I obey and thank; ease the connection apart.” Castielle says, and everyone let’s going; slumping forward. Adina falls backward, moaning still.

...

“Uhh, what’s up with her?” Dean asks, quirking a brow. Adina is writhing on the floor, running her hands up and down her thighs suggestively.

“Good question, uh, Adina what’re you doing?” She asks, noticing that the girl’s brown eyes are still glowing.

“I-I don’t know; I’ve never felt  _anything_  like this before.” She answers, smiling disoriented.

“Uh, why don’t I take to your room for a nap?” Charlie offers, touching Adina’s hand and vanishing with her.

“So, that was—”

“Kinda hot,” Sam cuts in, causing Noelle to roll her eyes. “What? It was,” he says, standing up and stretching.

“I think Adina is gonna make an interesting student.” Castielle says, rising to her feet gracefully; pulling Dean up with her.

“Hey Cas, you mind coming to the basement with me? I want to spar,” Dean says, offering his hand to her. She smiles, accepting it and manifesting them in the basement.

“God, they are so gay.” Noelle says, walking off with Sam following; laughing.

...

“Give a guy a warning before you teleport him, gosh!” Dean exclaims, shuddering. She laughs, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“Hey, if you aren’t used to this by now, whose fault is it really?” She asks, and he rolls his eyes; smirking.

“So, are you sure messing around is gonna go well in that little dress?” He asks, gesturing to her navy spaghetti strap skater dress. Shrugging, the outfit dissolves, revealing a navy sports bra and gray sweatpants.

“I felt you were also underdressed, so I took the liberty of fixing that.” She says, stretching and touching her toes. He looks at his outfit and sees he’s wearing the same color pattern as her, but with a blue t-shirt and sweat shorts.

“Alright, now I want to learn your fighting pattern.” Dean says, stretching as well.

“Why, so you can use it against me in the future? No way,” she says, doing a seal stretch; toes touching the back of her head. He licks his lips looking at the way she bends, sitting down to touch his toes and get a better look.

“I don’t want to hurt you; I just want to-to fight like you do.” He says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck; embarrassed. She laughs, laying on her back to rise in the bridge position; kicking over to a standing position.

“Dean, I don’t share stuff that could fuck me over; sorry. Besides, I change my moves every time I fight.” She admits, pulling him to his feet.

“Well, at least show me some shit. My fighting style is more punch and shoot, hoping I come out on top.” He says, placing his hands on his hips. She mimics his position, taking a moment to think. After a while, she sighs deeply, shrugging.

“Fine, let’s start by choosing a defense technique. I learned my cool moves via krav maga, and so I’ll show you a thing or two.” She says, smiling.

“Cas, what level fighter are you?” Dean asks, raising a brow.

“I’m a black belt, I’ve been fighting since I was five. Now, do what I do.” She says, dropping into her fighting stance and grinning when he falls into it perfectly. 

...

After two hours of training, him having pinned her to the mat a dozen times, she smiles when she does it without her holding back.

“Fantastic!” She congratulates, patting him on the back, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Taking off her gloves, she walks him to the punching bags again.

“Thanks, Cas, I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep up.” He says, blushing.

“You did phenomenally, you’re a fast learner.” She says, panting. “Now, I want to show you my favorite form of self-defense; kicking.” She says, doing a roundhouse; causing the bag to run into the wall; cracking the drywall.

“Shit!” He says when the wall keeps cracking; revealing a stainless steel door without a knob. She walks up to it, pressing her hand flat against it.

“What the hell is this?” She says, adding pressure to no avail.

“I don’t know, but it looks like it won’t open eas—”

“Huh!” She grunts, doing a vertical front kick; causing the thick steel door to be ripped from the hinges, falling to the ground to reveal…

...

“Oh my god…” she says in awe, shaking her head disbelievingly. “Guys, you need to see this.” She whispers, manifesting everyone else in the house.

“Jeez, what’s the—oh my gods.” Charlie says, smiling so happily. Everyone’s eyes are locked on what’s in the vault, except for Dean. The only thing he sees is an empty vault, with marble walls.

“Guys, I don’t understand, what’s the—”

“I have to go inside!” Noelle exclaims, dashing forward into the vault; hearing a whirring noise as she enters—ducking in seconds—barely missing a red laser that burns off a lock of her gray hair.

“What the hell, mom?” Castielle asks, looking worriedly to Naomi. Her mother shrugs, shaking her head.

“This might be a test of valor and courage,” her mother explains. “I guess whoever had the balls to step forward must have the brains and power to continue,” she says, biting her nails. Another thin laser strikes diagonally, and Noelle scarcely dodges it; doing a tight back tuck.

“What do I do Castielle?!” She asks, panicking.

“Uh um, keep dodging—look out!” She yells and Noelle gets her shoulder burned a bit; falling backward roll.

“Help her!” Charlie demands, and she shakes her hands; trying to muster something, anything.

“Uh, Minvera, please give me guidance.” She invokes, being thrown backward by an invisible force; being caught by Sam and Dean. “Shit, shit, shit! Okay, this is obviously a test I can’t cheat on. So um, keep dodging them and—” she gasps, seeing the light from the lasers shine off an object on the far wall.

“It’s your job to help them, guide them.” Naomi says, and she nods.

“Noelle, keep dodging until you reach the back of the vault. There’s something on the wall,” she instructs, and Noelle listens; holding her shoulder as she does yet another backflip. The further in she moves, the more she triggers lasers, and finally she falls backward against the wall; reaching the end of the vault. Turning her face away from the nearing lasers, she screams as the heat nears her cheek.

“Castielle!” She yells and suddenly, the lasers stop; revealing a pattern Castielle hadn’t quite noticed before. They all form a pentagram, and she chuckles. Smiling, she walks forward into the vault.

“Cassie, no!” Her mother yells, reaching for her. But when she steps inside, she’s unharmed; the lasers disappearing.

... 

“I guess this was a job for the chosen one,” she says, pulling Noelle into a hug. Stepping back, she gasps at what’s around her. On the left and right wall, there are dozens of weapons. Axes, hatchets, a ball and chain, swords, samurai swords, daggers, knives, throwing knives, throwing stars, automatic weapons, handguns, rifles, sniper rifles, and grenades are on the left wall. On the right wall is nothing but witchcraft items that she’s just drawn to. Bolines, censers and incense, scourges, a cingulum, wooden brooms, and folded cloaks. Pointing to the order some things are in, she smiles.

“For earth; a pentacle, for air; a sword, for fire; a wand, and for water; a chalice. This is… so wonderful.” Castielle says, running her hands over the things on the right wall.

“I never knew they’d prepare you guys so damn well, it’s amazing.” Naomi says, her voice full of wonder. Looking to the far wall, she sees it sparkle, so she goes to it; pounding on it with her fist. It shakes, being pushed forward to reveal a very large, thick, and dusty black book. Everyone gathers around her to see what it is, so she blows hard; clearing the dust.

“Book of Shadows, what’s that?” Dean asks, and they all turn to him looking upset; flabbergast.

“It’s  _the_  book, Dean. It’s like our own personal bible, and I think we’ve found one of the original copies.  _This_  is our guide,” Castielle explains, hugging the large book to her chest. Soon, a pedestal manifests; with a sword on it. The sword is black and has engravings on it in a strange language, the handle is sapphire. It… calls to her, so she goes to it; still clutching the book. Sam beats her to it, curiosity compelling him, but when he tries to lift it; nothing happens. He strains to grab it, but it doesn’t budge.

“Ah, what… gives?” He grunts, unable to move it. Charlie rests a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head.

“Sam, I think that belongs to Cassy.” She says, smiling weakly. He backs up, and she levitates to the sword; picking it up gracefully; body bowing forward as the blade glows, striking her with light and power. A divine light blooms from her center, nearly blinding. Covering their eyes, they cower from her fierce sanctity. Her clothing his burned from her body, being replaced with a long sleeve silver and gold lamé brocade dress, with gold open toe brocade sandals. She’s slowly lowered back to the ground, the light fading. Everyone uncovers their eyes, gaping at the magnificent sight before them. When no one speaks after a while, she begins to feel self-conscious.

“Come on guys, your gonna burn another hole in me with all that staring.” She quips, smiling. Her mother slowly walks up to her, opening a compact mirror. She gasps at her reflection, seeing that her hair is in a curly updo, and her face… she has silver and gold eyeshadow on, with the gold fanning out like a mask on her; like a shimmering mask.

“You look… gorgeous,” Dean says, flashing his signature smirk, but he still looks like he’s in awe.

“Th-thank you,” she says, feeling her cheeks heat. 

“So, I guess that stuff belongs to you after all.” Sam says, grinning. She chuckles, twirling her dress a bit.

“Yeah, but who knew this whole outfit thing comes with it?” She says happily, smiling like a loon.

“Castielle, open that book. Please,” Charlie requests, and she looks to see she still has the book of shadows under her arm. Opening it, she beams at what’s inside.

“And the high priestess will dawn her goddess-like clothing, wielding the sharpest weapons, dawning her talismans; this book, and the blessed sword.” She reads aloud, shaking her head confused.

“Well, you have the book and sword. They really were talking about you,” Noelle says, smiling. She shakes her head, looking to her mother for answers.

“Look, baby, this is obviously yours. You—you’re a high priestess, my love.” Naomi says, kissing her on the forehead.

“But, what does that mean?” She asks, placing the book on the pedestal next to the sword.

“It means you are the strongest living witch right now, or at least you will be after reading that.” Her mother answers and Castielle shakes her head disbelievingly.

“That doesn’t make  _any_  sense, this isn’t my calling.” She says, placing her hands on her hips. Her mother mimics the stance unconsciously.

“It is your calling; you are a conqueror; a vanquisher of all things evil.” Her mother snaps, lip quirked.

“Mom, I don’t mind saving people but—”

“Look, Cas, do you feel drawn to this?” Dean chimes in, holding her sword. She outstretches her hand out of reflex, and like a magnet, the sword flies into her hand.

“And do you need, need,  _need_  this?” Charlie asks, holding the Book of Shadows. She tries to resist the urge to snatch the book, but it wondrously manifests in her free hand.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this, it’s not right. I feel okay with anyone holding this, it feels like it’s-it’s—”

“Yours?” Dean asks, folding his arms. She nods, lowering her eyes.

“Because it is, accept it.” Noelle says, laughing. “Don’t feel for being a stingy toddler, this is the one time it’s okay.” She says, causing everyone to break out in laughter.

... 

Suddenly, her eyes glow, her body bowing forward. She’s struck with a vision, of something terrible to come.

“A thing, its-its coming, so angry. I-I can’t stop it, the strength of it. It’s gonna—ah!” She screams, being knocked backward into a wall by an unseen force.

“Cassie, baby, what’s wrong?” Naomi asks, rushing to touch her, being burned by the heat radiating from her daughter’s skin. Castielle falls limp, hitting the floor. Dean touches her carefully, pulling her to her feet.

“Cas! Cas?” He calls, slapping her face when she doesn’t wake. She has no reaction to the strike, so he picks her up bridal style; carrying her out of the vault to the couches across from their training area.

“What’s wrong with her?” Noelle asks, crowding around Castielle with everyone else.

“I-I don’t know, maybe that vision was too intense.” Charlie suggests, and Dean shakes his head, clutching Castielle’s hand tight.

“No, she’s fine. She’s stronger than some damn vision,” he says, and an idea strikes him. “Sam, go get the book.” He orders and his brother goes, returning with it quickly. Taking the book, he places it on her chest. She wraps her arms around it, tossing and turning. Her eyes fly open and she gasps, popping upright. 

“I uh, I’m on the couch now. What the hell happened?” She asks, looking around tiredly.

“You had a vision and passed out,” Noelle informs, and Castielle nods.

“Do you remember what you saw?” Sam asks, kneeling.

“Fragments, something’s coming; something dark and horrid, it’s coming for us.” She says, her voice shaking.

...

A woman with white hair and ashen skin is skipping down the streets of Brooklyn, garnering stares from passersby, smirking as they gape at her appearance. Her knee high stiletto boots have spikes on them, her black and white striped leggings lead up to a flared ruffle skirt, which leads to a corset blouse. Nearly everything on her is black, and she smiles at the crazy city around her; the many corner stores and street activity; children playing double-dutch, drawing with chalk on the sidewalk. This place is as dark and disturbed as she is, and adores it. Twirling on a light pole, she crouches down to the kids playing with chalk and smiles wildly.

“Hey kiddies, I have a question for ya!” She says excitedly, causing the ebony children to back up from her a bit.

“Wh-what do you want?” The one with braided pigtails asks; her accent heavy.

“Well, do you know where puh-toh-muhk is?” She asks in return, batting her heavily mascaraed eyelashes.

“You mean Potomac?” The girl asks the strange woman.

“You talkin’ bout Maryland?” The boy chimes in, folding his arms. “That place is for rich people, so I assume you something to give us for that info.” He says, smirking.

“Stop it TJ!” The little girl says, shoving him. “It’s this place in the expensive parts of Maryland, like a five-hour train ride away.” She says, going back to drawing. The white-haired woman smiles, open-mouthed, revealing her cracked teeth and decaying gums. And then suddenly—she’s gone!

“Ciara, did you see that?” TJ asks, and she shakes her head, focusing on her drawing.

... 

“Look, I’m getting fucking cabin fever!” Dean yells flailing his arms, and Castielle huffs; folding her arms.

“You know it’s not safe out there, bitch.” She says angrily, pouting.

“Oh, so now you give a damn about my safety?” He asks, smirking.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Of course, I care, even though I have no clue as to why I still give a shit.” She says, placing a hand on her hip. He bursts out laughing, shaking his head disbelievingly.

“Wow, Cas, I’m touched. Truly, but I still need some fucking breathing room.” He says, heading for the front door. As he’s stepping out, she calls after him.

“I really do care, just so you know. And I have a bad feeling about this,” she says, and he turns around, smiling. Coming back in, he pulls her into a tight hug.

“Just chill, ya sap.” He says, kissing her forehead. Leaving he heads for his Impala, rubbing the hood of his black beauty. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he smiles as he puts in a Led Zeppelin cassette. He drives off, blasting All My Love. 

... 

He doesn’t go very far, just do a nearby Safeway, grabbing some UTZ Chips, a few packs of Twizzlers, Blow Pops, and four cases of root beer and cream soda. When he’s checking out, handing the cashier two twenties. He’s playing on his phone as he loads up the car, and suddenly—BANG—he’s thrown into another car; smashing out the windshield and denting the hood. He tries to get up, feeling incredibly weak and achy. Slowly, he sits up, gasping at the sight before him. There’s this woman, floating, with dark flames in her hands.

“Hey Winchester, hope you don’t mind me dropping in.” She says, smiling, hurling them at him. Unceremoniously, he rolls off the car, grunting as he hits the ground hard. The car is blown up, flying high in the air and coming back down to crush the cars behind it.

...

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks, following a pacing Castielle with her eyes. The girl shakes her head, placing her hands on her hips.

“That’s the worst part Chucky, I don’t know. I just sense something,” she answers, biting her fingernails.

...

“Who the hell are you?” He grunts, he has glass in his arm, in his palms, but he reaches for his gun with bloody hands; aiming at the witch. He shoots at her, ducking behind a car and then shooting again. She moves back with the force of the bullets, and she… bleeds black goddamn goop! Turning around, he runs away. Ducking behind cars further in the parking lot, he sees her slowly following, throwing cars like they weigh nothing at all.

...

“Following him to the store is creepy as all hell, but okay. Turn right!” Charlie yells and Castielle makes a sharp right, earning honks and angry yells from the other drivers.

“He better still be there,” she says, hugging up on the steering wheel as she’s white-knuckling it in her tight grip.

“Slow down!” Noelle yells, clutching the back of Castielle seat as she accelerates. Adina looks like she’s gonna be sick, but Castielle continues; undeterred. 

... 

At the mansion, a dozen women in full-on metal warrior armor, with their swords drawn, marches towards the double doors. Inside, Sam is with Naomi in the music room. They’re both sitting in silence, unsure of exactly what to say.

“So… what do you think they’re up to?” He says, and Naomi doesn’t pull her eyes from the photo album she’s holding.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure everyone’s fine.” She says distractedly, flipping a page in the album; sipping from her glass of wine.

“It would’ve been nice to go,” he says, sighing deeply. Naomi hums in acknowledgment, and suddenly—they hear a window shatter in the house.

“What… the hell was that?” She whispers, and several other windows shatter. Standing up, he takes Naomi’s hand; putting her behind him protectively. They quietly run from the music room to the living room, and when they creep over to the window to go on the balcony, he hears something swooshing through the air.

“Duck!” He screams, and they fall to the floor as an axe is lodged into the wall above their heads. He turns around to see several women in medieval armor, with swords drawn. Panting, he raises his fists uselessly.

...

“Come on Dean, I just want to talk. You humans talk with your bodies, right?” She asks, throwing the car he’s hiding behind. He stands up, going out on a limb and punching her across the face, shattering the bones in his hand.

“What are you?!” He demands, cradling his broken hand.

“Something that was here long before you, boy, and that will be here long after you are gone.” She answers cryptically.

“Vague, much?” He says, He slowly backs up, but she grabs him by the throat, raising him in the air while crushing his windpipe. His feet dangle, and his vision blurs.

“Ah!” The witch screams, being thrown into the side of Safeway; dropping him in the process and bashing a giant hole in the building.

“Don’t you lay a hand on him, bitch!” Castielle yells, panting as she levitates over to him, landing on the ground unsteadily. He gasps, coughing as he breathes deeply; savoring the oxygen. She’s standing in front of him, protectively. She’s no longer wearing her dress that screams Divine Being, but black slacks, a white button-up, and high-heeled ankle boots. She has her sword, and she’s walking over to the witch. The woman gets up, dusting off the debris.

“Wow, little girl, that actually stung a bit.” She says, smirking. Castielle shrugs, smiling.

“I had to make an unforgettable entrance, I’m sure you can relate.” Castielle says, gesturing to the mess of destroyed cars behind them.

...

Kicking another woman in the face, he tries to fight them off alongside Naomi, who’s using magic instead of her fists. He punches one woman in the face, stealing her sword to behead her; body thumping to the floor. Slicing through another neck, he takes that sword too; tossing it to Naomi. As Naomi spins, stabbing some, beheading others, her cocktail dress slowly transforms into a floor-length gown with a metal breastplate.

“Keep fighting!” She yells, and hacks into one of the women’s head, kicking her in the stomach to dislodge her sword. The remaining women back them into a corner, and he looks around; scared. Naomi grabs his hand, closing her eyes.

“Amaethon, mother of magics, hear my plea. Use our power and set us free!!” Naomi invokes, and magic swirls all around them, and she sees Sam radiating light in her peripheral. The energy is absorbed in Sam, and then explodes forward; blasting everyone away; including Naomi. She flies across the room, hitting her head on a table.

...

She doesn’t know how Dean found himself here, but this is definitely the  _thing_  from her vision earlier. Getting in her fighting stance, she charges forward, slicing the being across its chest.

“That won’t kill it Cas,” Dean grunts, trying to get up but falling back down. Charlie, Noelle, and Adina rush out of the Navigator, running to grab Dean up and help him into the backseat of the spacious truck.

“What the hell is that supposed to… oh,” she says, seeing that the woman’s wounds mend quickly. Everyone sees this, so they grab weapons from the trunk. They rush up to her, standing behind Castielle in their fighting stances, with a fighting axe, a bow and arrow, and a sword.

“We’ll just hit you with what we’ve got until that does some—”

“Do you truly think to destroy me? That’s laughable!” The witch says, shrieking out laughter. She runs at them, being riddled with arrows and as she goes; kicking Charlie in the stomach and the force throws her across the parking lot into a light pole. Grunting, she falls to the ground; cradling her abdomen.

“Ahh!” Noelle yells, charging at the woman with her sword. She slices her across the chest several times, causing her to ooze thick black goop. 

“That won’t stop me!!” She screams, punching Noelle in the face; successfully knocking her unconscious. Adina is holding the ball and chain, shaking uncontrollably.

“B-back up, I’m warning you.” Adina says, her voice quivering. Adina sees her friends, beaten helpless and she finds her catalyst. Holding out her hand, energy blasts from her palm; throwing the beast backward. Castielle flies through the air, stabbing the woman in the chest with all her weight. The woman throws Castielle off of her, climbing on top of her. She grabs Castielle by the throat, punching her in the face, the throat, and stomach repeatedly.

“Your ‘warriors’ are so very weak; I can’t believe I viewed them as a challenge.” She says, bearing down on Castielle menacingly. “I mean, look at them. They’ve been massacred in minutes! I hope you're proud because this is how you die; with these failures at your side and your enemy—”

“Now Charlie!” She yells and Charlie beheads the beast; black goo dripping all over Castielle’s face. Grunting, she throws the heavy body off of her, sitting up quickly.

“Get in the car guys, we’ve gotta go.” Castielle says, pulling her sword from the woman’s body. She lifts Dean up, letting him lean on her for support.

...

Panting, he looks at the carnage at his feet. All of the women are… in pieces, flesh melded with armor, body parts scattered. He doesn’t know why, but there’s black liquid _everywhere_. He hears Naomi moan and  he runs over to her. Pulling her to her feet, he sits her down in a loveseat.

“Naomi? You still with me?” He asks, tapping her face lightly.

“Don’t… touch my face, Sam,” she groans, slowly opening her bright blue eyes. She smiles softly, patting him on the arm. She gets to her feet, unsteady, leaning on him for balance.

“What… what the hell happened? That spell should’ve protected you too,” he says, looking around confusedly.

“I don’t know, I felt a surge of power—and it wasn’t mine.” She says, limping to the foyer. She collapses on a couch, gasping when the door flies open.

“Dean!” Sam yells, running over to help his brother. Castielle passes him off, helping a staggering Noelle to a couch.

“What happened, Castielle?” Naomi asks, seeing her daughter’s face is complete chaos. Castielle’s lip is busted, her hair is a mess, her cheek is bruised and bloody, and her knuckles are bleeding. She smiles tightly, ignoring her mother.

“Alright guys, we failed terribly. But, at least we’re alive.” Castielle says, shucking off her jacket. She looks at her friends, seeing them so badly beaten, and feels like a disappointment. She takes a seat, sighing deeply. Everyone’s silent for a moment, and Adina screams as one of the deformed women grabs her; wrestling her to the ground.

“Help! Help me, please!” She screams, and rolls on her stomach, attempting to crawl away.

“Not all of you are as strong as you think you are,” the woman spits, cackling. And it all happens so quickly, as Castielle jumps to her feet—the woman grabs Adina’s shoulder—tearing her arm from the socket. Adina shrieks, tears freely falling. She’s squirming, covering her bleeding wound, as if to slow the hemorrhaging. Castielle silently walks over to a screaming Adina, grabbing the attacker by her head, she pulls until she rips the woman’s head from her neck; throwing to the wayside. She drops to her knees, touching Adina’s temple; forcing her into unconsciousness. She’s kneeling in a pull of her friend’s blood, and the last thing she feels is her face drenched in wetness as she falls to the floor.

 **_Later That Night…_ **  

A woman with white-blonde hair in a floor-length black silk embellished lace dress with a high standing collar, a sheer chest panel, long sleeves, a fitted waist, a flared skirt, and a draped sheer train. She’s in the Safeway parking lot, watching as the Navigator pulls off, and she smiles. Looking at the mess that is her agent of destruction, seeing that because of the magic they used, it’s still just a flaming puddle. Shaking her head, she laughs loudly.

“Wonderful, these girls  _will_  rise above; saving us from the plague of conscious things that are just so archaic. They will restore things to the natural order,” she says, smiling wildly. Waving her hand, she wipes away the evidence of her creature, knowing that the dullards that walk this earth so ungratefully and ignorantly wouldn’t comprehend a lick of this situation here, it deviates too far from their skewed perspective and ignorant expectations.

…

Slowly, she walks up to the Macintosh residence, heels clicking against the ground; the train of her white gown trailing behind her. She smirks, looking through the open doors. She sees everyone in shock, looking at a passed out Castielle in a pool of… someone else’s blood, hmm.

“Soon, boy, soon you’ll become who you really are. Domino by domino, everything’s falling into place.” She says, smiling mischievously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! I'm proud, so comment and tell if I shouldn't be. My banter is inspired by Joss Whedon's, mostly because his is interesting as fuck...
> 
> Give me kudos if you think I deserve it!
> 
> Here's the outfit and makeup. https://www.polyvore.com/untitled_547/set?id=206596537 
> 
> http://tuebengtsson.deviantart.com/art/New-Year-Make-up-276651226


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More establishing, lots of setting up. Happy ending, if your blind.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/follow_my_laughter_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=207352373)

She feels lost, so very lost. Her home has been quiet because no one can find anything to say. All Adina does now is cry, but she doesn’t know what to do. She’s a wordsmith, pep talks and inspirational speeches are something that comes naturally to her, but not now. No, for the last two weeks her lips have been sealed.

…

She has tried _everything_ she knows—worn-out her powers—but she can’t heal Adina. The thought that this poor girl who trusted her and believed in her will be crippled for life _because_ of her… it’s too unbearable a thought, and every time she ponders it; the property suffers a massive earthquake.

…

“Dean, it’s not fair! I was supposed to be there, okay? I-I-I was supposed to _help_ them, to protect them!” He yells, throwing a large trashcan with his mind; splinters flying everywhere. He’s pacing in the nearby park, while Dean sits on a bench, eating a cheeseburger. So much frustration is coursing through him, he hasn’t ever used magic this easily before.

“Look, Sammy, what do you want me to say? She’s the leader, she knows what’s best.” Dean says, never looking away from the book.

“Really, that’s all you have to say? Adina is missing a _goddamn_ arm! That’s not good leadership,” Sam growls, folding his arms. Dean crushes the burger wrapping, getting off the bench to go to the car. As he’s opening the door, it slams shut.

“Have a seat,” Sam demands, using magic to drag the bench through the dirt to the car. “I am so tired of being micromanaged, I mean come on, this is the first time we’ve been out of the house in days!” Sam screams, shattering the windshields of the cars around the Impala. 

“Stop with the fucking magic, you damn baby. You shouldn’t go out because your too immature to even understand why you need to stay inside, moron. You could be maimed next,” Dean says, breathing heavily.

“Fuck you!” Sam yells, angrily. Sam walks up on him like he’s gonna do something, so Dean smacks him on the side of his head, and Sam falls to the ground, shocked. He twitches, and then falls flat on his back.

“Oh, get the fuck up, you goddamn drama queen.” He says, and when Sam doesn’t move, he drops to his knees, nudging him. Sam is unmoving when suddenly his body is strung taught and he begins convulsing. His eyes snap open, radiating light.

…

Searing pain is striking through his head and is eyes feel so heated. He sees flashing images, and he groans as the pain intensifies.

“Deeeaaan!” He screams through a locked jaw, eyes watering.  _There’s a girl, with blonde hair and a beautiful smile; twinkling blue eyes that shine. Her laugh is gorgeous; it echoes through his mind as the images fade._

“Sammy, come on, don’t fuck with me. Wake up!” Dean yells, slapping him across the cheek. His face stings, as he bolts upright.

“Why’d you hit me?” He asks, and Dean sighs deeply, pulling him into a hug. “Ugh, no chick flick moments dude!” He complains, shoving at his Dean’s shoulders.

“What the hell  _was_  that?” Dean asks, his jade eyes worried.

“I don’t know; I-I think it was a vision.” He answers, smiling.

…

“Cas! Cas!” He yells, pulling Sam through the mansion by the wrist, as he’s marching down the hallway, she manifests in front of them.

“Be quiet Dean, she’s resting.” She rasps tiredly, pointing to an unconscious Adina. He’s taken aback by her appearance. She looks exhausted, bags under her eyes, wearing dirty clothes, hair a mess, and lips chapped. He softens his approach, calming himself.

“I apologize, but we have a bit of an issue. Sam—”

“Just had a vision, I’m aware. Why is that an issue, more specifically, my issue?” She asks, yawning tiredly.

“Um, why would it  _not_  be your problem?” Sam asks, folding his arms. She rolls her oceanic eyes, folding her arms as well.

“Because you’re a Wiccan, that’s to be expected. I have bigger issues on my plate, like how she keeps inducing herself in deep sleep.” She growls—gesturing to an unconscious Adina—never raising her voice, yet it carries with just as much power.

“Look, I don’t know why I saw this girl. She wasn’t in danger, but it’s your job to figure out what the visions mean!” Sam growls back, stepping to her and she does the same in return.

“Fine, you want an interpretation; you can have it!” She yells, grabbing his head in both her hands, quickly piercing into his mind.

…

 _She can see the girl, laughing and smiling, feels how emotional and passionate he gets just looking at her. It’s as if he’s never seen a pretty girl before, and she scoffs when she sees that Sam and Dean went out—directly disobeying her orders._ She stops abruptly—causing Sam to slump—scowling at the both of them.

“I’ll give a fucking clarification on what your vision means; you saw some bitch, unconsciously or not, by way of breaking the goddamn rules and going out anyway!” She yells, shoving Sam in the chest.

“Look, we’re not your damn prisoners—”

“But you need my protection and my guidance. And you will  _not_  find it anywhere else, don’t think just because of our wicca-bond, that I won’t kick your ass.” She says, panting from her pure wrath.

“And how exactly are you gonna do that?” Sam asks, folding his arms across his broad chest.

“I’ll take your magic away, leave you feeling hollow and utterly useless. Then how will you fix your father?” She spits angrily, gasping and covering her mouth when she realizes the line she just crossed, seeing the broken look on Dean’s face.

“Y-you did _not_ just say that,” he says, his voice lost. She shakes her head, silent.

“Yes Dean, she told us exactly how she feels about us,” Sam says, glaring at her.

“I-I didn’t mean it, I apologize. Look—”

“No, you look. Your gonna help Sam, power him up slowly but fucking surely with the mojo he needs to fix our father, then we’re through.” Dean says, walking away. He goes down the hall to his room, slamming the door behind him. Sam scoffs, shaking his head, following behind his brother. Feeling helpless, she runs to find her mother.

…

“I don’t know what is it, but I can’t win with them. I expect them to understand, I failed Adina, and I can’t-can’t fix her. And then what I said about their dad, Jesus.” She says, her mother hugging her tighter. They're lying on her mother’s bed, and she’s in her arms. The same embrace she’s been held in her whole life, it’s still so necessary.

“Honey, you didn’t know; you’re not omniscient. We make mistakes, and some we just can’t come back from.” Naomi explains, rubbing Castielle’s shoulder.

“But… I’m still responsible, even if I couldn’t have fixed this. I-I froze up, and-and—” She starts sobbing inconsolably.

“Castielle, baby, please don’t blame yourself. We all froze up, and no one is to blame for that.” Naomi says, hugging her daughter tighter.

“Mom, I can’t even look her in the eye. She trusted me to protect her, and I couldn’t,” she says dejectedly.

“Hon, maybe you can turn to the book for help. You haven’t opened it in a while,” Naomi suggests, and Castielle nods but doesn’t move.

“Can I just… lay with you for a while, ma?” She asks, looking at her mother with big puppy dog eyes. Naomi nods, hugging her tighter.

…

He’s creeping down the steps, out the window in the library, over the terraced-in patio, and through the nearby wooded area. He’s watching his back closely as he escapes the house, doesn’t see anyone. As he’s walking through the woods, an arrow lodges into the tree near his head, causing him to flinch and trip over a log; hitting the ground roughly. He looks up to see Noelle, smiling with an arrow drawn in her bow.

“Where do you think you’re going, Sam?” She asks, aiming at him.

“I’m going to get some air, in a place that doesn’t feel like a prison. You gonna tell?” He asks, raising his chin. She shrugs.

“I don’t know, considering your brother nearly died on a snack run, I just might.” She says, lowering her weapon. He tilts upward his head, just the slightest movement, and he causes vines to slither up her legs and arms.

“Ah! Oh god, what the hell is this?!” She screams, so he waves his hands; causing leaves to cover her mouth. Once she tied up, immobile, he stands; dusting himself off.

“I hate to do this to ya, but I’m getting cabin fever.” He says, and she shakes in her bonds, her screaming muffled. He walks off, leaving her there to yell.

…

She’s flipping through the book, reading interesting passages and incantations. She finds an incantation to bless the book, so she rests her hands on the pages.

“Elements protect this book, from wondering eyes and prying look, and fill it with Thine ancient power, in this right and ready hour.” She invokes, and gasps when each word and letter in the book begins to glow. Turning more pages, she lands on a healing incantation, on a whim, she places her hands on the page; hoping against hope that she can restore Adina’s arm. 

“Around the Circle, throughout and about, healing within, healing without. All health come in, all illness flee, by your will, so mote it be! Airmid, Bridgit, Eir, and Aceso; heal her, fix her, make her blood flow!” She shouts, and the air in her lungs if punched out. She hunches over the book, coughing. Blood begins to drip from her nose, landing on the pages. Her head is thrown backward, eyes aglow; words just pour out of her. 

“We come from Goddess, Diana; you are luminous, you are bright, you are shining, crowned with light; wonderful goddess, shower us in what’s right.” She chants, and she closes her eyes.

…

Adina is tossing and turning in her bed, sweating profusely. She gasps, shooting upright; eyes glowing brightly.

…

The words on the pages slowly crawl up Castielle’s arms, to her shoulders and then her neck. It’s seared into her skin, not a painful burn; but a marking of achievement.

“Heal those hurt, make right what is wrong, fix her broken bones, mend her skin; make right what is wrong.” She chants, and gasps. Blood is flowing freely from her nose, falling on the page and it’s slowly absorbed into the words she reads.

…

Adina is screaming, and the muscle, bones, and nerves slowly grow back; arm filling in her empty socket. She’s grunting, clutching the sheets in her hand. Her arm is-is growing back, growing past the forearm. At her wrist is a nub, and a hand slowly sprouts; fingers appearing out of the skin one by one. She gasps, panting. Opening her eyes slowly, she sees something unbelievable.

“Oh, my god.” She whispers, jumping out of bed.

…

Opening her eyes, they glow a radiant white light. Her door flies open, revealing… Adina. Smiling she sees her skin too is glowing, and-and her hand is…

“Dina, your hand, it’s—”

“Yeah, and your skin is—”

“Yep, glowing.” She says, smiling. They sit in silence for a moment, and suddenly Charlie barges in; panting.

“Um, I’ve got bad news,” Charlie says, and they frown.

“What's wrong?” She asks, confused.

“Sam’s gone, and Noelle’s missing too.” Charlie answers, eyes downcast.

…

He finds a road nearby and follows it into town, walking for three miles before he finds a shopping center. There’s restaurants, retail stores, as well as smoothie and coffee shops. He goes into a Starbucks, laughing at the idea of how he’s coming here for a little escape when he nearly died last time. He goes up to the counter, ready to order.

“Welcome to Starbucks, how may I help you?” The barista, Lily, asks. He looks to the menu, thinking he’ll go with his usual when a lady behind him speaks up.

“I’d go with a Pumpkin Spice latte, it’s really good. I’ll buy it, in case you don’t like it.” She offers, and he turns around and gasps. It’s the beautiful blonde from his vision, and she’s smiling shyly. She’s wearing a red leather jacket, a Pink Floyd tee, skinny jeans, and converse. He nods, and she pays, walking away. He stares at her until he’s told to move. Walking out, he takes a sip of the coffee, savoring the warm taste with hints of cinnamon and perfectly flavored with pumpkin. He’s walking down the street, in the direction of home.

…

“Hey, how’s the coffee?” A voice asks, and he looks to see it’s the girl. Smiling, he raises the cup in thanks, taking another sip.

“It’s really good, nice suggestion uh… what’s your name?” He asks, and she smiles.

“Ruby, what about you? I’d say you’re a David, but… I could be wrong.” She says playfully, stirring her Frappuccino and then slowly sucking that finger clean.

“Uh Sam is me, I’m Sam, heh.” He answers stupidly, and she giggles sweetly, sticking out her hand. He shakes her hand, which is soft in comparison to his that has been hardened by callouses.

“Where you headed?” She asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“To the park, on Falls Road.” He says, and she nods.

“Mind if I tag—”

“Yes, I mean, no I don’t mind.” He answers, laughing nervously. She has such a bright smile, with such white, clean teeth. She has a cute little mole between her eyebrows and sweet little dimples.

“Cool, Sam. Thanks, I don’t spend too much time with people in this town. I’m new to Maryland,” She says, biting her lower lip. He shakes his head, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna be your tour guide this evening, come along milady.” He says, presenting his arm. She takes it, chuckling.

…

“What do you mean he’s just gone?!” She shouts, pacing back and forth.

“Uh, well uh, he just  _is_ ,” Charlie says, hiding behind Dean.

“Cassie, what happened to your clothes?” Naomi asks, and Castielle assesses herself. She’s in a white floral tulle and crepe gown, with an illusion neckline, long sleeves, zip cuffs, sheer tulle panels, gathered shoulders, fitted waist, with embellishments all over. Embellished beads, embroidery, and sequins. In has two side pockets as well, and she scrunches her face up. On her feet are bejeweled sandals, with an ankle strap.

“Oh my god, are these Dolce and Gabb—no, I need to focus. Sam left, he broke the damn rules.” She says, folding her arms. Adina is flexing her arm, seeing if it functions any differently. On a whim, she punches the marble; pulling her fist out to reveal a clear hole.

“I don’t know, who fucking knows—wait, I  _do_  know. I’m powered up, as you can see.” She says, putting her hands out by her sides, palms up, and closing her eyes. The words on her skin slowly rise, still radiating light.

“Um, what’re you doing?” Adina asks, and she shushes her. She focuses her power, and she can see Noelle, tied up in the woods, screaming for help. Her eyes snap open, thunder rumbles—lightning flashes—and she shatters every window in the kitchen from her pure rage. Castielle levitates herself and everyone else; throwing the windows open and floating to Noelle.

…

“What’s so bad about this place?” He asks, swinging with Ruby. She shrugs, laughing; swinging higher.

“Nothing, if you like a town that dies by 9pm on the nose. Every single night. Like clockwork.” She says, and he chuckles.

“Well, yeah. That’s kinda shitty, but so what? A lot of towns are like that, get over it.” He says, amused.

“Sammy, baby, hell no. I can’t settle for this, I mean, don’t you wish you were somewhere else?” She asks, and he nods.

“Oh, definitely. But this is it for now,” he says, shrugging.

“Where do you want to be and why is _this_ it?” She asks, and he feels… conflicted. “Why don’t you leave Sam?” She presses, and he lowers his eyes; shaking his head.

…

The sun is setting, and the air is chilly. They find Noelle, struggling in her bonds. The girl is in shorts and a camisole, she must be freezing. She snaps her fingers, freeing her. Noelle falls in her arms, hugging her tightly.

“Who—”

“Sam, I said I was gonna tell you and he did this to me.” She says shakily, her violet eyes panicked; body shivering.

“You couldn’t free yourself with magic?” She asks, and Noelle shakes her head.

“I-I couldn’t, I don’t know why. I guess I wasn’t strong enough,” she says, lowering her eyes.

“Don’t feel bad, he has power over this forest that you couldn’t imagine. Guys, take her back; I’m going to get Sam.” She says, manifesting her sword. They leave, throwing a coat over Noelle’s shoulders. Dean follows her as she goes, and she turns around; raising her sword in warning.

“This isn’t a trip you’re invited on, Winchester.” She says, and he folds his arms defiantly.

“I don’t want you hurting him, especially when you don’t have to.” He says, and she scoffs.

“Look what he did to Noelle, this,” she says, waving her sword. “Is a precautionary measure, because he likes to have pissing contests. I’m the leader and he’s my subordinate.” She says, sheathing her weapon in a beige sword belt.

“He doesn’t listen, I get that. But it doesn’t mean you can use excessive force.” Dean says, and she rolls her eyes.

“I don’t have time for this, I can feel him; he’s near and that could change.” She says, stomping off to Sam.

“Wait, what do you mean you can feel him?” He asks, and she smirks.

“I have a lot more power, I’m looking for him and so I can feel him.” She says, levitating. “You can follow me if you like, but I’ll get there before you.” She shouts down from above and darts off. She’s a blur, so he takes off after her; sprinting.

…

“College is the place you need to be, and no one can deny you that; not your father, not your brother, and not this chick you're shacking up with.” She says, shaking her head.

“Ruby, I don’t think that leaving is the best call. I have to stay; I really have to. Seriously,” he says passionately, and she scoffs.

“Freedom, Sam. It’s boundless, and right now the people you know want to put you in a box.” She says, with her eyes narrowed. The wind begins to howl, whipping hard and blowing the trees around.

“Um, I really appreciate the pep talk. But I think you need to go,” he says, surveying the area. Ruby looks confused, shaking her head.

“We were having a breakthrough, you can’t just—”

“I’m saying this for your own good, you need to leave because someone’s coming.” He says, grabbing her hand.

“What Sammy, you don’t want her to see who you truly are?!” Castielle yells and she drops down from the sky in front of them; splitting the ground beneath her when she lands. She’s in a white gown, glaring at him furiously.

“Oh my god,” Ruby whispers, covering her mouth. Castielle walks over to them, dusting herself off a bit.

“How’d you find me?” He asks, stepping in front of Ruby.

“Well, it was easy. I know you can sense that I have more power, and with that comes the ability to find any jackass I want—even you.” She says, folding her arms.

“What are you?” Ruby asks, breathless. Castielle waves her hand, and Ruby drops to the ground. Sam looks to Castielle, enraged.

“What did you do?” He bites out, eye twitching a bit.

“I knocked her the hell out, as I will you if you don’t come willingly, Samuel.” She informs, cocking her head to the side.

“I’m not going anywhere, not until I take her ho—” she waves her hand again and Ruby disappears, causing him to scowl.

“She’s home. Let’s go.” She orders, and he doesn’t move. “Last warning, let’s go.” She says, and he doesn’t move.

“I am not going _anywhere_ with you,” he says, planting his feet. She shrugs, manifesting a baseball bat easily.

“I told Dean you’d put up a fight, and since you know how to augment your powers, you won’t be too affected by this.” She says, swinging for his head and he dodges quickly. She swings again, hitting his back. He falls to the ground, but he kicks her legs out from under her. She’s still gripping the bat, which he snatches. He pulls back, getting ready to hit her.

“I could fucking kill you,” he says, and she smiles.

“Not likely, babe.” She says, snapping her fingers, causing the bat to disappear. Snapping her fingers, she changes her outfit. She switches into jeans, a long-sleeve tee, and a leather jacket with matching high heeled boots. She does a cat-spring, punching him when she rises.

“Cheap goddamn shot,” he says, spitting out blood. She shrugs and kicks for his temple, which he blocks, countering with a punch to her gut. She hunches over, backhanding him by surprise.

“Why are you so angry Sam?” She asks, blocking his punch and twisting his wrist behind his back.

“Maybe because I’m being attacked.” He grunts through clenched teeth, head-butting her and knocking her backward. She wipes her nose, smiling.

“You are so ridiculous, answer the question!” She yells, launching at him and grabbing him by the throat; throwing them both to the ground but using him to break her fall.

“Get… off of me…” he strains, losing oxygen.

“Tell me.” She says, and he flips her on her back; straddling her waist. He delivers a hard right hook, and she tastes blood in her mouth. He slaps her, then punches her in the nose again.

“I should’ve been there, but you left me home!” He screams in her face, punching her in the cheek again. She turns her head, spitting out blood and a few molars.

“I’m sorry,” she says weakly, and he punches her again. He grabs her by her jacket collar, pulling his arm back.

…

When he arrives, he slows to a stop, shocked to see a sight he would’ve never expected. Sam is beating the ever-loving shit out of Castielle, yelling in her face.

“I could’ve protected them; I could have  _saved_  them but you didn’t let me! I could have protected you, this is all my—”

“No, no it is _not_. You need to understand that; this was a test in disguise. They proved to themselves that they could save each other; that they can fight.” Castielle mumbles, her lips swollen and bleeding.

“But, I-I failed you all by sitting on my ass while you got yours beaten.” He says, so lost. She rubs his shoulder comfortingly.

“You would’ve stopped them from seeing that all that training and meditating wasn’t a waste,” she says, and he nods slowly.

“Cas, I um, I actually proved something to my—”

“Get off of her!” Dean yells suddenly, shocking them and punching Sam in the face; knocking him out. She looks up weakly, shaking her head.

“We were bonding, having a moment.” She slurs, and he’s shaken with her appearance. Her lips are busted, one of her eyes is nearly swollen shut, and her cheeks are bruised and split.

“He was beating you to death,” he says, shoving Sam off of her and picking her up bridal style; hugging her close to his chest.

“No, he really wasn’t. But I’m sorry, I probably scared you.” She says, resting her head on his shoulder.

“No, you’re the one I expected to be violent; not him.” He says, kicking Sam in the side. Her body goes limp after a minute, and he sees that she’s passed out. He turns around, heading for the house; not feeling an ounce of guilt for leaving Sam until morning.

…

 As they walk back, Castielle’s arm falls, her palm open. Further behind them, Sam is being dragged along with them by his foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chapter, if you have any ideas on how the next chapter should go, please let me know.
> 
> Oh, this is Ruby's outfit by the way. http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=209683883


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! Enjoy the chapter, I had fun writing it.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/chase_me_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=204247134)

“What happened?!” Naomi asks worriedly, seeing Dean lay an unconscious Castielle on the couch in the foyer.

“They had a chat, Sam beat her bloody, I knocked Sam out and left him at the park.” He says, clipped; angry. Charlie goes to shut the door, seeing Sam outside.

“Um, he’s not so much at the park as he’s right here.” She says, and Dean looks outside to see his brother there, on the steps. He goes outside, dragging Sam in the house by his shirt collar.

“From now on, they keep their distance. I don’t want anything like this to  _ever_  happen again,” he says, picking Castielle up to take her to her room.

…

Placing Castielle on her bed, he kneels, rubbing her hair off her face. Shaking his head, he goes to her bathroom—returning with a damp rag. Rubbing away the dried blood, her injuries don’t seem as bad but still pretty vicious.

“Why’d you let him  _do_  this?” He asks, his fingers hovering above her battered face. He kisses her on the lips briefly, and leaves her bedroom; wiping his eyes as he goes.

**_Three Weeks Later…_ **

It’s been two and a half weeks and four more Wiccans have been added to their posse, by the names of Aurora, Demetria, and twin sisters Thora and Elysia—whose names mean ‘thunder’ and ‘lightning’. They are all incredibly different, and all so very wonderful. Aurora, who has a strong connection to nature—like Sam—is a beautiful sixteen-year-old with curly red hair and pale skin. Demetria is a lovely fifteen-year-old who has smooth ebony skin, long dreads, and crazy combat skills. Thora and Elysia, who are both sixteen, couldn’t be more polar opposite—Thora loves to meditate, read about spells and incantations, she has bob-cut chestnut-colored hair and coffee-brown eyes. Elysia, on the other hand, has straight up _gold_ _eyes_ with long honey-blonde hair and bangs, she loves to use her fists to fight off her enemies, and she’s very extrovert while her sister is quiet and closed off; preferring to fight with her mind.

…

They all live and work well together, Noelle and Thora spend a lot of time reading, Charlie and Demetria are both gaming nerds and have a game night twice a week, and Elysia and Adina roughhouse _so_ much—too much for her liking; training and practicing what they’ve learned on each other. The boys keep to themselves now, ever since Sam had his little tenderizing session with her face. The girls can always coax Dean out of his shell, but never Sam. Not unless he absolutely has to—he’s just too ashamed. She knows he still sneaks to see Ruby, well, he thinks he’s sneaking anyway but she’s practically always watching. Her siblings are finally back with her, and she couldn’t be happier, even though they keep teasing her about Dean.

…

Rummaging through the fridge, Dean grabs a Budweiser and slams the door shut—seeing Thora standing there; smiling.

“Jesus!” He yelps, grabbing his chest. “You can’t sneak up on people, fuck,” he says, panting. She shrugs, still smiling.

“What Dean? I just wanted to say hey,” she says, batting her long lashes. She’s wearing a skimpy outfit like a Catholic schoolgirl, with a crisscross crop top, teal tartan mini skirt, lace thigh highs, and black Mary Jane's. Oh god, she even has a rosary around her neck.

“Well, hey.” He says in return, flashing his signature grin. She smirks, edging closer; rubbing his muscular bicep. Thora walks away, blowing a kiss over her shoulder as she goes. He can actually feel a bit of wind caress his lips.  

…

Her power is vast; she’s acquired so many abilities. She has genius-level intellect, she can perform all manner of spells, rituals, and transmogrification. She is an expert at projecting and performing flight, telekinesis, telepathy, force field generation—visible or invisible—portal creation, electrokinesis, astral projection, and regeneration any time she pleases. She can even teleport via storm clouds, which gives her a sick entrance. She’s learned to generate lightning, and she can manipulate her voice or the voice of others. She’s mastered augmenting her powers, and she’s so in tune with her magic, she’s more powerful than she has _ever_ been before—and she wants her family and friends to see that.

…

She’s on the terrace now—wearing a waterfall frock jacket, a crinkle cami with an underbust corset, slim pants, and suede Jimmy Choo ankle boots—to prove it to everyone that she is beyond worldly and natural damage as well as supernatural attacks. The Book of Shadows has given her power she never could’ve imagined, to the point where she is able to advance others’ abilities. Sam is by her side, with a gun in his hand. Everyone is there, standing; waiting.

“I’m glad you're all here, I have an announcement to make. I feel as if I have risen to the most powerful I’ll ever be; I truly _feel_ as if I’m a High Priestess.” She says, and they all look to each other, confused.

“We already know you’re a High Priestess, ya bloke,” Elysia says, her British accent so incredibly cockney. They all laugh, and she smiles.

“Yeah, what’s with the gathering if you're just gonna tell us what we know?” Noelle asks, smiling.

“Well, I want to show you just how invulnerable I am.” She says, turning to Sam. “I want you to empty the clip, right in my chest.” She says, and everyone gasps.

“What? Are you crazy?!” Demetria shouts, shaking her head.

“This is madness!” Thora yells.

“Why would you want that?!” Anna asks, upset.

“You’re out of your mind,” Sam says, and everyone starts to talk at once; yelling indistinguishably. Rolling her eyes, she levitates.

“Everyone, everyone, please, stop yelling. Shut up!” She yells, amplifying her voice. They silence, focusing on her again.

“You can’t ask me to do this,” Sam says, trying to hand her the gun.

“That’s why I’m not, this is an order; shoot me. Now.” She says, turning them so everyone can see. He aims the gun, closing his eyes as he fires off one round. Everyone flinches, but then they gasp when they see her holding the bullet. Sam looks up slowly, and she smiles.

“See? I’m fine,” she says, laughing. “Hit me again!” She yells, and he does; loading her up with bullets all over her chest; the force of the shot never knocking her backward or off-balance. And with his last bullet, he goes for a headshot—and she falls to the ground, and everyone gasps.

“W-what did you do?” Naomi asks, standing up quickly. “Why would you do that, she’s—”

“Still alive and well, just a bit surprised is all.” She grunts, groaning as she gets up slowly; holding the bullet in her hand.

“Oh my god,” Naomi says, fainting; being caught by an invisible force. She levitates her mother, taking her back to the house.

“Apparently that was too much for the old geyser,” she says, laughing and everyone joins in. “So, do you guys believe me now?” She says, snapping her fingers and causing the gun shells to disappear.

…

“You are so awesome!” Dean says, coming to pat her on the back. She smiles, wrapping an arm around him.

“Alright, guys, I’ve got a new order of business for you.” She says, floating so she catches their attention.

“What is it, dude? I want a sandwich,” Aurora says, pouting.

“You guys train a lot, and that’s great. But we’re done training, it’s time to put those talents to the test everyone. So tonight, we’re gonna go looking for trouble.” She says, smirking.

“Um, what do you mean by that?” Elysia asks timidly.

“Well, our enemies hunt at night. And we need to start being the thing they fear, whether it’s a vamp or a demon or even a hunter—we need to defend ourselves with something other than a dummy.” She says, and Sam and Dean frown.

“But, what if we fail?” Adina asks, and Castielle shakes her head.

“Failure equals death, and I won’t allow it. What if a hunter followed you here, saw you practicing magic—then what?” She asks, and an idea strikes her. She conjures five hunters, each with a dangerous weapon, and she has them run for the girls.

“W-where did they come from?!” Elysia yells, grabbing her sister’s hand.

“Who cares? You don’t have time to wonder where they came from when they’re trying to kill you!” She yells, folding her arms. She continues to levitate—smirking—as she gains the best view of her Augustus Caesar colosseum battle. 

…

Demetria runs, effortlessly jumping up on a chair and doing a front tuck off the table into a flying kick. Her foot connects with the nearest hunter’s jaw, knocking him on his ass. Thora follows suit, running along the rail of the terrace to jump in the air with her hands in a fist, smashing one over the head with enhanced strength. Charlie picks up a chair, throwing it at one of them. Three go down, but two still gunning for Elysia and Adina. One punches Adina across the face, and goes for another—but she blocks it, kneeing him in the balls and head-butting him. Elysia backs away from the man, who towers over her, reaching back to slap her and she closes her eyes, raising her hands. She unintentionally builds up energy, blasting him away. She opens her eyes, seeing that he’s down for the count.

…

They’re panting, standing over the unconscious bodies of their adversaries. And then suddenly, they hear clapping, and look to see a smiling Castielle lowering herself back to the ground.

“You guys did great, I’m really proud because you just snapped into action. But, I have one more test,” she says, grinning. 

“What do you want us to do now? I’m game,” Demetria says, laughing breathlessly.

“No, this is for Sam.” She says, catching his attention. “You’re a hunter, so I know you’d find it hard to fight alongside these girls against other hunters but get over it. Don’t kill, immobilize.” She instructs, manifesting another hunter, with broad shoulders and a large build. The man has a shotgun, aimed right at Sam’s chest. Closing his eyes, he focuses for a moment and after a few seconds, the man drops to the ground.

“Wow, I uh, I wasn’t expecting you to just go with it. Well done,” Castielle congratulates, smiling. Sam locks eyes with her, smiling shyly. She causes the bodies to disappear, walking away to make herself a drink behind the wet bar. Grabbing a cocktail glass, she pours in some gin and vermouth, she drops in some ice cubes and an olive on a toothpick.

“Uh thanks, Cas, I really appreciate it.” He says, smiling, rubbing the back of his neck. She laughs, taking a sip of her drink.

“Don’t mention it, Sam, we’re all a unit here, okay?” She asks, desperately hoping he understands.

“Yeah, we are.” He says, returning the sentiment.

…

They’re all in the dining room, having an early meal. Everyone’s laughing, cracking jokes and then causing even more raucous guffawing. She’s happy to see everyone so alive and joyful, even Sam is joining in on the jokes and roasting.

“Look, Adina, you nearly pissed your pants. We all know it,” Dean says, forking up a piece of turkey.

“Hey! I stood my ground and survived beeyatch!” Adina shouts, giggling.

“You made it baby, kudos,” Demetria says, saluting as she sips on her sparkling cider.

“Hey Cas, what’s with the Thanksgiving feast in September?” Charlie asks, scooping up some mac n cheese. Castielle shrugs, taking a sip of her Aurèlia wine.

“I don’t know, seemed like a good idea,” Castielle says, smiling. “Um, excuse me, I’ll be right back. Enjoy dinner,” She says, disappearing.

“She has got to stop that,” Noelle says, snatching up Castielle’s plate.

…

She manifests in the library, stepping out the window onto the balcony; pulling some cigarettes and a lighter out of her blazer pocket, she lights one up.

“So, I guess the gang doesn’t know you smoke,” Dean says, surprising her; causing her to gasp and start coughing excessively.

“Look, dingus, not on the inhale.” She wheezes, coughing as she takes a slow drag. “Why’d you follow me?” She asks, tapping her cigarette to shed the ashes. He shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“I don’t know; I guess when you left you sorta took the party with you.” He answers, stepping out on the balcony; leaning against the window frame.

“Yeah, why’s that?” She asks, taking another slow drag from her cigarette.

“Well, just because I keep my distance mean I don’t enjoy your presence when I’m in it.” He says, and she raises a brow, cocking her head to the side.

“Is that so? Well, that’s not the impression I get. Let’s address the issue, kay babe? Sam beat the hell out of me, yeah, but I let him Dean. You can’t punish him for my choices, and you can’t alienate me from them either.” She says, shaking her head. He rolls his eyes, scoffing.

“He  _hurt_  you, that’s not something I can stand for. And I don’t even know why!” He shouts, folding his arms.

“Don’t know why he hurt me or don’t know why you give a shit?” She asks, and rubs his neck; looking away embarrassed.

“The latter, I guess.” He says quietly, and she laughs. Dropping her cigarette, she crushes it under her boot, popping some peppermint Altoids in her mouth.

“Look, I don’t know why either. I like you and don’t have much of a reason. Not that your personality isn’t stellar, but based on our history, that’s not enough. Maybe if we didn’t start out knowing each other on such a bad note, this wouldn’t be taboo. This could’ve been avoided.” She says, and he lowers his eyes, nodding. After a beat, he speaks.

“Hey, awhile back, you said Meg was trying to raise her mother or something. What was that about?” He asks, and she smiles sadly.

“Her mother, Abaddon, she was killed by hunters a little while before you killed Meg.” She says, and his eyes widen; surprised.

“She was a witch, wasn’t she?” He asks, and Castielle makes a bitchface—which she _definitely_ got from Sam.

“What do you think? I mean I guess Abaddon had it coming because she was on a rampage not too long before you gave Meg the kiss of death. Abaddon was killing so many hunters, mostly in the midwest.” She says, taking a seat on the balcony rail.

“That’s what brought us to Idaho, well, Wyoming; we just traced it to Idaho.” He says, tumblers clicking into place.

“Yeah, someone had killed her first love—but she didn’t know what had happened for decades.” She says, and he nods; curious.

“Who was her heartthrob?” He asks, and she giggles.

“Some guy named Henry… Henry—fuck, I can’t remember. Maybe Smith? I’m not sure, but they used to exorcise demons together, back in the day. Like, the 50s.” She says, smiling. 

“What? How the hell old was Abaddon?” He asks, confused.

“Um… we witches are immortal after a certain point. I believe she was like 150 when she was killed,” she says, and he nods slowly.

“I assume the older you get, the more powerful you get.” He says, and she nods. 

“Anyway, they didn’t find it too bueno that a witch was using magic to exorcise demons; they hated her power.” She says.

“It was the 50s, I’m sure if a man had those powers, it wouldn’t be a problem.” He says, rolling his eyes, and she nods; emphatically. “They who, by the way?” He asks.

“Men of Letters, this council of mortal dweebs that liked to micromanage the lives of every supernatural being.” She explains, annoyed.

“Wow, were they like hunters?” He asks, intrigued. But she scoffs, laughing.

“Hell no, dude. They were ridiculous little bookworms who rarely lifted a finger to help kill the bad guys,” she says, and Dean looks a bit disappointed.

“Well, was Henry a Man of Letters?” He asks, hopeful.

“Yes he was, but he actually did some of the dirty work.” She clarifies, and he smiles.

“Awesome, good to know. But anyway, back to Abaddon.” He reminds her, and she nods, folding her arms; sighing deeply.

“It’s simple, during an exorcism, the Men of Letters set her up; she showed her dark side and hurt Henry by accident. Years later—decades really—she realized what happened in her fugue state; she went on a rampage.” She explains, and Dean seems shocked.

“I-I get why she did what she did, but… I can’t approve,” he says, and she nods sadly. “Well, not on record anyway.” He says, and they both laugh. After a beat of silence, she speaks. 

“Thank you for listening, and understanding.” She says, kissing him on the cheek. He closes his eyes, loving the feel of her soft lips against his skin. When he opens his eyes, she’s gone.

“You’ve gotta learn how to say goodbye, Cas.” He whispers, smiling like a loon; touching his cheek contentedly.

…

“Alright guys, it’s midnight—zero dark thirty; it’s time to hunt,” Castielle announces, twirling her sword. She opens the weapons vault and guides them in.

“You used that phrase wrong, Cas,” Dean says, lacing up his Timberland's. Everyone’s in black, some with sweatpants, others in skirts and shorts. Of course, Sam and Dean are in denim and flannel. Ugh.

“So, tonight’s the night,” Charlie whispers to Noelle, who smiles widely.

“Yep, we’ve trained our asses off and now we get to prove it.” She says excitedly.

“Now, for those of you who are best at combat, get magic items from the left wall. And for those who are best with magic, get weapons from the left wall.” She instructs and they all go for it; happily picking and choosing, putting some items on their utility belts.

“Are you gonna be fighting with us?” Adina asks, grabbing a sword and putting it in its sheath on her waist belt.

“I’ll be guiding you, but no; this is an exercise in teamwork.” She says, and they all nod, still grabbing weapons.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Dean asks, and she nods.

“They need real scenarios, and someone as powerful as I am helping doesn’t make things challenging.” She says, and he laughs.

“That sounded so arrogant, but I know what you mean.” He says, and they both laugh.

…

Gasping, she teleports to her room quickly. Rifling through her drawers, she tries to find an outfit for this event. She puts on a white camisole with black slim pants, leather studded combat boots, a tactical belt, a gun holder. Going through her accessories drawer, she finds armor gloves with gold plated knuckles. Sitting down at her vanity, she puts on some blood red lipstick and dark eyeshadow and eyeliner. Tussling her hair, she combs through it with her fingers. Smiling, she blows a kiss to herself; teleporting back to the armory.

“Cas, where the hell did you—whoa.” He says, blatantly checking her out. “Wow, you look really nice.” He says, blushing.

“Aw, thanks. Gotta dress to impress, or in this instance—to kill.” She says, smiling. “Alright, it’s time to go. Let’s move out!” She says, manifesting her sword; heading for the garage.

…

Baltimore, that’s the place to find what they’re looking for. Vamps hide out in abandoned houses and apartment complexes, picking off the city goers and homeless without anyone every even noticing. She’s driving the Navigator, and Charlie’s in the passenger seat with Noelle, Elysia, and Aurora is in the back. Demetria, Thora, Sam, and Dean are following behind them in the Impala.

 _“Dean, pullover on E Baltimore Street.”_ She says telepathically, seeing him swerve before stopping behind her as she pulls up to the curb. He jumps out the car, knocking on her window.

“Don’t ever do that while I’m driving, understand?” He says, and she rolls her eyes, hopping out the car with the girls following.

“Look, it was faster than calling you.” She says, and everyone meets on the sidewalk. “Alright, we all know how dangerous clubbing is, so let’s go inside and spot the vamps.” She instructs.

“Um, not all of us look older than we are,” Demetria says, folding her arms. Snapping her fingers, she hides everyone’s weapons.

“Okay, good point. Demetria, Noelle, Elysia, Charlie; stay outside and stand guard.” She says, and they nod, heading off to circle the block.

“And as for the rest of us?” Adina asks, grinning.

“Well, let’s get into something,” Castielle says, strutting over to the club; swishing her hips seductively as she goes.

“Um, it’s a bit unfair for her to have all that power  _and_  be a bombshell,” Thora says, following along.

…

“Why couldn’t we have found our calling when we were older?” Noelle asks with her arms folded as they circle the block for the second time.

“I don’t know, maybe we needed to know so we could master it by the time we’re adults,” Demetria says, shrugging.

“Girls, it’s not bad to have to miss out on the club scene. They’re just gonna lure the vamps out here anyway,” Charlie says, smiling.

“You do raise a good point, however, I would’ve liked to get my freak on in that club,” Elysia says, and they all laugh.  

“That would’ve been fun, yeah,” Demetria says, smiling. “I haven’t been out dancing in forever,” she says, fondly.

“Try never,” Noelle says, and everyone gasps.

“Wait, you’ve never been out for a night of debauchery?” Elysia asks, eyes wide.

“Well, no. I am only fourteen,” she says, eyes downcast.

…

The bouncer is reluctant to let them in, but with an enticing smile and a touch of magic to his cheek, they get in easily. The club pulls them in, with laser lights and the sound of Pop That blasting through every speaker. Girls are swinging on poles, wearing nothing but colorful thongs. People are grinding against each other, hair flying, hips shaking; a truly seductive vibe. Setting up by a table, they take a seat.

 “Okay gang, the game plan for those of us with magic is to scope out the vamps and get ‘em outside; capiche?” She says, and they all nod. Soon, a sexy waitress dressed like Harley Quinn rolls over to them, smiling.

“Hey y’all! Welcome to Hustler Club, what would you guys like to drink?” The waitress asks them, and she flashes a little grin.

“Well, I’d love a banana daiquiri… what’s your name?” She asks, whispering in the girl’s ear.

“I’m not supposed to say, Blue Eyes, but it’s Charlotte.” She answers, whispering in Castielle’s ear as well. Flirting is an ego booster for everyone, especially in a place like this.

“Okay Lotte, I like it. Do me a favor please, and put a little extra oomph in their drinks. Take the edge off,” She requests, winking. Charlotte winks in return and rolls over to everyone else—on skates—taking their orders.

…

Blows land; striking a vampire in the gut. Charlie is cornered by two of them, and she kicks one in the chest, the force kicking him into a dumpster. Noelle swings her sword, front guarding and slicing at a vamp’s chest. Round-housing it, she pivots; beheading it. Demetria butterfly kicks two vampires, manifesting a battle axe; hacking into the neck of one and punching the other in the face; the strength of it throwing him into a brick wall.

…

“So, is the plan to flirt with the nearest piece of ass or to kill some vamps?” Dean asks, yelling over the music, and Castielle rolls her eyes.

“What? I’m just having a little fun, it’s you guys that need to be on guard.” She says, folding her arms. Charlotte returns quickly, giving everyone their drinks and handing Castielle hers slowly; secretly passing her a folded piece of paper. After everyone has had a few sips, making faces now and then.

“Now, I had Charlotte put a little extra love in your drinks. Not enough to get you drunk, but you guys need to relax.” She says, sipping her daiquiri.

“That’s actually a great idea!” Aurora exclaims, grinning. She gets up, heading out to the dancefloor.

“Should we get her?” Thora asks, and Castielle shakes her head.

“I sense her magic; she’s subtly scoping for vampires.” She says, sipping her drink some more. The next song that plays is Let’s Kill Tonight, and she giggles. Sam looks stiff, and so does Dean. Using telepathy, she speaks to them both.

 _“Look,_ _boys, vamps won’t run to you; appear inviting, ya dinks!”_ She says playfully, causing them to flinch. Dean nods, heading for the dancefloor too. Looking at her troops, she smiles as Aurora lures a couple out; the man is a vampire and the woman is a demon.

…

“You seem pretty young to be into the group thing,” Damian says, his Hispanic accent heavy and sensual. Running her fingers through her hair, Aurora sways her hips to what sounds like Drunk in Love. Smiling lopsidedly, she stumbles as she wraps her arms around his neck; kissing him, and then kissing Janis.

“I don’t think either of you cares about my age,” she slurs, licking her lips.

…

“Should we go with Ror?” Sam asks, and Castielle shakes her head; drinking her second daiquiri.

“Sammy, they must learn. If they need help, they’ll call. Now you, go and find some poor fool to kill.” She orders, smiling. Sam gets up reluctantly, disappearing into the crowd. When Rihanna’s ‘Work’ begins to play, she gets up, finding Dean so they can dance.

…

“On your left; left!!” Charlie yells, and Demetria ducks; seeing that a vamp got Elysia’s sword. Ducking, Demetria kicks him in the side. He swings at her, and she holds up a hand.

“Tacete!” She yells, and suddenly he’s frozen; sword midair. Quickly, she slices through his arm to cut off his head; cutting off his other arm too and his limbs thud to the ground; the sword clattering next to them.

“A warrior… never… loses their weapon,” Noelle pants, handing Elysia her sword. They’re all breathing heavily as they leave the dark alley, having succeeded in clearing out the nest that lived nearby. Looking behind her, Charlie waves a hand.

“Adolebitque,” she says, and the bodies are set ablaze.

…

“Work, work, work, work, work. See me do me dir, dir, dir, dir, dir!” She sings, grinding on Dean; her back to his chest.

“Cas, this isn’t a social call babe.” He whispers in her ear, and she giggles, turning around to look at him; eyes searching.

…

Grabbing Damian by the shoulders, she slams him into the wall on the side of the building; punching him across the face and elbowing Janis in her nose. She does a back kick when Janis returns quickly, head butting him immediately after. Suddenly, Adina comes outside; laughing with two guys. They see each other and freeze, assessing the situation quickly, and they both manifest their weapons simultaneously.

“Attack!” She yells, beheading Damian with mystical speed. Smiling, she punches Janis in the face. Adina uses magic to throw one guy into the other, slamming them against the wall with all her strength.

“Aurora, sword!” She yells when she’s straining to keep them still, and Aurora throws it to her quickly. Laying it on the ground, she lets them fall; beheading themselves with their own weight.

“You little bitches, fucking freaks fighting your own kind.” Janis spits hatefully, and Aurora punches her in the face once more; holding her by the shirt collar.

“We are _nothing_ like you, I read both your minds; he was gonna kill me and you were gonna take,” punch “my,” backhand “fucking body!” she screams, choking Janis.

“Easy Aurora, a human could still be in there,” Adina says, and Aurora eases her grip. Using her telepathy, her nose bleeds as she contacts everyone.

…

“Aurora, she’s calling; we’ve gotta get back. Let’s move!” Charlie orders and they run back to the club; heels and boots clacking and stomping against the concrete.

…

She’s laughing with Dean when suddenly, Aurora’s distressed voice pierces her mind. 

“We should go outside; I hear Aurora calling us quite-quite weakly.” Castielle slurs, grabbing Dean and Sam and heading for the backdoor.

…

Everyone arrives out back, seeing Aurora and Adina combining their magic to hold the demon in place.

“We… don’t know the exorcism, say it Sam… now!” Aurora strains, barely holding the fervently struggling bitch.

“No! We’re all the same, you can’t kill family!” Janis screams, writhing in her invisible bonds.

“You are not _anyone’s_ family; you are a taint on mankind; an error. We are here to rectify that blunder,” Castielle says coldly, using a touch of her own magic to hold the being down.

“Uh, alright. Um, I’m a little rusty. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion—” He says, outstretching hand towards the girl.

“You can’t stop us, kill one and a thousand more will rise!” She threatens, shaking.

“—infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.” Noelle chimes in and the demo starts to convulse. 

“Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te.” Demetria continues, and the demon tosses her head back and forth.

“Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare.” Thora finishes, and the being shrieks; thick black smoke flying out of her mouth, attempting to escape. Castielle quickly reaches for it, magically grabbing hold and containing it. Closing her eyes, she opens a one-way portal to the underworld; banishing it. Open her eyes, she sees everyone gawking at her.

“What? Perks of being a Priestess,” she says, shrugging, and Dean points at her. She looks to see her clothes being burned away by this light radiating from her, and yelps.

“I brought this, just in case,” Dean says, covering her in a beige trench coat. The rest of her clothing is scorched, leaving her nude beneath the coat.

“Thanks, I really appreciate—ow!” She hisses, seeing that she’s stepped on glass. He picks her up, bridal style.

“No problem,” he says, smiling.

“Okay, gang—uh, spin me around please—you did fucking great! I’m so proud, you worked like a team. Now, about the girl—”

“Mmmm,” Janis moans, coming to. “W-what’s going on?” She questions, sitting up and rubbing her head. Sam and Demetria reach for her, helping Janis to her feet.

“What do you remember?” Thora asks gently, and Janis looks at her dazedly.

“I-I was walking, and this thing grabbed me—this smoke. It got in my mouth, I couldn’t move.” She says, crying. Sam wraps an arm around her, keeping her steady and comforting her. She sobs hard, shaking.

“It’s alright, you’re safe now. We’re gonna take you home,” Sam says, wrapping his arms around her as she buries her face in his chest. He raises his eyebrows, feeling strange; looking to his friends for help.

…

They pull away from Janis’ brownstone apartment, Demetria staying to stand guard. Hugging the steering wheel, she looks to Sam, who's now in the passenger seat of the Navigator.

“So, you did good kiddo.” Castielle congratulates, smiling a little. He nods, looking down at his lap. Thora, Noelle, and Adina are knocked out in the backseat; all of them snoring—loudly.

“Do you think I’ll ever make you proud enough to forgive me?” He asks quietly, and she chuckles.

“What makes you think I haven’t forgiven you already?” She asks in return, looking at him and then focusing on the road.

“I-I just… don’t see how. Not at all.” He answers, and she scoffs.    

“Look, Sam, your brother may blow this out of proportion; but I understand why you did what you did. I know you’ve noticed the unsteady nature of your emotions as of late.” She explains, and he nods.

“Well, it’s no excuse. And I will _never_ forgive myself, I was such a prick.” He says regretfully, and she rubs his shoulder.

“Get over it, I have. There’s not even any scars honey, let it go.” She says, and he nods slowly; leaning into her welcome touch.

“Hey Cas, do you remember anything from your trance-state awhile back?” He asks, and she shrugs, shaking her head.

“Not really, just emotions—no actual memories. Why?” She asks, and he shakes his head.

“Just curious,” he says, and she nods. “I really appreciate your forgiveness; it feels like death thinking I’m not in your good graces.” He says, and she smiles. After a beat, she decides to confide in him a little secret.

“I love you Sam; I love all of you. This journey into godhood has given me a connection to all of you, and I need your love as much as I need your presence; you guys give me purpose.” She divulges, looking over to him and smiling; ruffling his shaggy hair as he grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay dudes, happy ending, bonding moment, yadi yadda. I hope you enjoyed it, to be honest, this story is not as successful as I thought it would be.  
> If you have any ideas on how to make the summary more appealing, let me know. I'm having a hard time, but so far I settled on an excerpt from the story.
> 
> Outfits for this chapter:  
> Castielle - (on the terrace) http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_538/set?id=206588156 (at the club) http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=206670489  
> Dean - http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=198773833  
> Sam - http://www.polyvore.com/sam_winchester/set?id=204748365  
> Thora - (when seducing Dean) http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=209685584


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you, eventually I'll add more combat and shit. Hope you like how this chapter goes.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/im_here_with_you_my/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=209390133)

_Looking down upon the earth, she sighs tiredly. Life with the “powers that be” isn’t fulfilling, especially when all the action is happening down below. She watches her lover, basking in her corporeal bliss. Castielle’s laughing, hosing Dean in the garden she’s created. He grabs her, tickling her and snatching the hose to soak them both. She moves a cloud aside, seeing her father enter her bedroom. He touches the picture on her dresser of her and her mother, laughing and holding each other. Knowing that the beings below won’t ever hear her voice, know of her presence, she finds herself… longing. For attention? Affection? A kiss from her lover? She doesn’t know, but she is definitely yearning for something._

_“Do you hear my prayers, mistress? Hmm, do you know how I burn for you?” She inquires to a woman that is deaf to her restless complaints, playing with a man who was once the enemy and is now a confidant._

…

Below, Castielle is with Dean; her white lace frock dress drenched. Shrieking, she tackles him to the ground, straddling him and pinning his hands above his head.

“You ass, I should beat you senseless!” She threatens mirthfully, giggling while he laughs heartily. He flashes his signature smirk, and she playfully punches him.

“What? You looked hot, I thought you could use a refresher.” He jokes, and he scoffs; feigning hurt. 

“Looked?” She asks, pouting dramatically. He rolls his eyes, grinning.

“Bitch, you know you’re sexy.” He says, looking up at her wondrously with big green eyes of lust and greed.  

“Covetousness is not attractive, Winchester.” She says, leaning down.   

“Hmm, seems to be working just fine.” He says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. With her mind, she slowly worms the hose over—stuffing it in the front of his jeans, hopping off of him.

“Ahhh! Ah god, Jesus fuck!” He yells, trying to rip his pants off. She laughs, seeing him flail around like a damn weirdo.

“Come on, I thought you needed to cool off.” She says, giggling. He pulls the hose out, spraying her, causing her to shriek.

“Leave my sister alone!!” Samandriel yells, tackling Dean to the ground. Dean lands on his back, and her brother punches him in the chest; giggling.

“Andy cut the shit.” She says, snatching him and spinning him around real fast.

“Hey! You can’t curse in front him, he’s like two.” Dean scolds playfully, chuckling.

“I’m eight, you bitch!” Samandriel yells, wriggling out of Castielle’s hold to kick Dean in the shin. She laughs, covering her mouth shocked.  

“Oh, my god! Samandriel, do _not_ kick him you little asshole.” She reprimands, and he folds his arms; unhappy. 

“He’s a dick, and you know it,” Samandriel says, pouting. She rolls her eyes, running her fingers through his dark unkempt hair. She pulls him to her, and Dean steps back; taking in the moment that he’s not a part of. She kneels, at eye level, locking her sapphire eyes with his baby blue ones. She taps him on the nose, kissing his forehead. He clears his throat, coughing into his fist dramatically. He catches their attention, and she smiles; walking away.

“What did she say?” Dean whispers and Samandriel rolls his eyes.

“She said you’re a ‘real sweet guy’ Dean,” he answers, folding his arms. “And that you're special to her, in every good and bad way.” He says, angry.

“Why do you hate me?” He asks, and the little shit actually scoffs. 

“How did you know she spoke to me telepathically?” He counters, and Dean shrugs; sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Because, I know her.” He says, happily.

“Why do you know her?” Samandriel asks, folding his arms.

“I uh, you know, like her.” He answers, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“That’s why,” Samandriel dismisses, walking away from him; leaving him to stew in his own self-deprecating thoughts.  

…

 _“Sam! You know you could do so much better on your own,”_ Ruby scolds, and he paces back and forth on the patio; turning off the speakerphone.

“Look, Rubes, I can’t leave them. I have this awesome power, and I can’t keep it to myself.” He says, and he hears something clatter in the background.

 _“Well, all this power is locked away; limited. You are boundless, and she doesn’t want you to see that.”_ Ruby says, and he can practically see her placing her hands on her hips. 

…

“You like him, you actually _fucking_ like him,” Noelle says disbelievingly, scoffing. She shrugs, clutching her pillow to her chest. Their sitting on Castielle’s bed, dishing.

“Well, yes. But, I don’t know; it feels all wrong. He isn’t someone I want to like, or have fun with. He’s been in my life for like two months, and I’ve forgiven him.” She says, and Noelle scoffs.

“You know what he did and even if you forgive him, I never will. There’s no bond, just raw emotion, and anger.” She says, and Castielle rolls her eyes.

“Look, Elle, I appreciate your passion, I really do. But I feel very differently, I mean come on! He’s sweet, funny, and charming.” She defends, and Noelle just laughs. 

“Ugh, you are so blind. He’s a cock-muncher, end of story. You know what he did, and yet you still pursue him.” Noelle says crossly, violet eyes heated. She rests her hand on Noelle’s, rubbing gently. She shakes her head, smiling softly.

“He is a kind man, even if his past offenses are irreprehensible; I still want to give him a chance.” She says, and Noelle scoffs; standing up tersely.

“Dude, you already have. And he’s gonna make a fucking fool of you,” she says dismissively, leaving the room. Her mouth is agape, and her feelings are definitely just… crushed.

…

“Sam, I-I don’t understand her brother. He hates me, like seriously—but he barely even knows me!” He shouts, and Sam scoffs out a laugh.

“Dude, did you forget that we very nearly killed her?” Sam asks, and the wind is gone from his sails. He plops down in a seat, slouching.

“But… we squared that away, I think.” He says unsoundly, biting his fingernails. Sam shakes his head, turning the pages of his journal with his mind. 

“You don’t square away attempted murder, blockhead. To be honest, anything past a truce and dead silence is a no-go in my opinion.” Sam informs, and he buries his face in his hands; groaning.

“Why did I have to fuck things up so royally?” He asks dejectedly.

“Um… this all started with a witch hunt, what happened after that was unexpected and unplanned. This was supposed to end that night,” Sam says, sighing deeply. He taps a pencil against his journal, rolling his neck.

“So, how’s Ruby?” He asks and sees his brother stiffen immediately.

“She’s uh, she’s good. You know, still a cool girl.” He says, smiling.

…

 _“Sam, you are so much better than this! You don’t need her approval,”_ Ruby says, scoffing into the phone. He sighs deeply, locking his bedroom door.

“I do, though, and I don’t even know why.” He says, shaking his head. He runs his fingers through his hair; stressed.

 _“Maybe she has you under a spell, this Wicca-connection can’t be_ that _strong,”_ Ruby says, the sound of a chip back being ruffled in the background.

“Well… it kinda is, babe. I don’t know why, but these people feel like-like my family.” He says, smiling; content.

 _“Do me a favor and come over to my house,”_ she says, and he scoffs.

“Why?” He asks.

 _“Because, I have something to show you.”_ She whispers, voice sultry.

…

She stretches on silk ropes, relaxing and centering her aura; her power. She hums Wordless Chorus, doing a triple wrap pose. Soon, she transitions to invert, hook her legs, and then she slides downward. Unexpectedly, she hears someone giggle.

“Yoga, nice. I was never any good at it, but aerial yoga? That’s impossible for me,” she says, and Noelle yelps; falling. 

“Oh, hey Charlie.” She says, panting, smiling nervously.

“Oh, hey Noelle.” Charlie mocks, smiling. “How are you?” She asks, and Noelle shrugs; placing her hands on her hips.

“Um, I’m good. Just harnessing my chi, what about you?” She queries in return, and Charlie shrugs too; fiddling with the silk ropes hanging from the ceiling.

“I’m amazed, you looked like a mermaid.” Charlie compliments, laughing. She laughs too, feeling her cheeks heat; blushing.

“Thank you, I really appreciate that.” She says, smiling. “So, what brings you down here?” She asks, curious.

“Well, I wanted to see you. I know you get your power from music, you’re like a muse dude.” She says, grinning.

“Uh, thank you; that’s really sweet. But… why did you want to see me?” She asks, and Charlie’s face flushes red before answering.

“Show me what you can do,” she says, and Noelle is completely confused. And then, it hits her.

“Okay,” she whispers. Wrapping an arm around her, she grabs a rope; winding it around her hand. She hoists them up, using her feet on the other rope to twirl them towards the ceiling.

…

Borrowing the Firebird, he pulls out of the coven. It’s harder to sneak out in a car, but he waves his hand; putting a glamor of invisibility around himself. Checking his iPhone, he looks at her text once more, smiling.

*We are gonna have so much fun ;D*

…

“L-look Thora, I don’t think this is a good idea.” He says, backing up slowly. He feels the marble counter cut into his back, seeing that he’s blocked in.

“You don’t have to think, baby, just feel.” She says, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. She explores his mouth with her tongue, running it along each tooth; tasting him. He rests his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly. Dropping to her knees, she starts quickly unbuckling his belt. She smiles up at him, licking her lips sensually.

“Oh my god,” someone gasps, and he looks to see Elysia standing in the kitchen; a hand to her mouth in shock.

“Shit, get up.” He growls, pulling Thora to her feet by her hands.

“Why now, sissy?” Thora asks, leaning against the counter.

“B-because, Sam. It’s Sam,” she says, still in shock.

“What about him?” Dean asks, stepping toward her.

“He’s… gone, I can’t even feel him. Dean, I can always feel him; his power is that intense. But I-I can’t _feel_ him,” She sobs, tears running down her face.

…

“CASTIELLE!” Dean yells, kicking her door open. “Where is he?!” He shouts and she shakes her head, confused. She’s watching a Pixar movie with Anna in her lap, buried in blankets.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She asks, standing up.

“That’s a bad word and you know it, Castielle.” Anna scolds and Dean silences her with a look. Backing him out into the hallway, she shoves him in the chest.

“He’s gone. You can sense your people; where the hell is my brother?” He asks, craning his neck down so he can be in her face.

“First of all, this wouldn’t be the first time he’s pulled a disappearing act. Second, who the hell do you think you are kicking down my door?” She asks rhetorically, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m fucking pissed, because if you can feel everyone, you should’ve felt him leaving.” He says, folding his arms. Rolling her eyes, she closes them; focusing. She uses her magic to sense his aura, feeling for his presence. Her brow furrows, because… there’s nothing.

“D-Dean, I don’t feel him. I can sense everyone in this state, but I can’t _fucking_ feel Sam.” She says, her lower lip quivering.

…

“What the hell do you mean you can’t feel him? You're supposed to be some higher being, you fuck, this is your neck of the woods!” He shouts, bearing down on her. For a fraction of a second, she backs up—and then she remembers. Tilting her head, she throws him to the wall; keeping him pressed against it.

“I _am_ a higher being, so don’t you ever talk down to me.” She says with her eyes narrowed. “Now, I cannot _feel_ him; end. Of. Story.” She grumbles, eyes glowing.  

“Look Cas… I need your help…” He strains, his forest green eyes begging. Heh, he’s pulling Sam’s puppy dog look… Sam. Fuck.

“Okay, okay. I uh, I apologize. We were fine earlier, and then you disrespected me out of fear and I reacted immaturely.” She says, releasing her hold on him.

“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry Cas, I am just really fucking worried.” He says, pulling her into a hug. “Please help me,” he whispers, and she wraps her arms around him.  

…

“Mmm, a little less tongue.” She instructs, giggling against Noelle’s lips. She smiles, kissing her once more.

“Wow, thanks teach.” She says, laughing.

“I’m a fantastic teacher, don’t you ever forget it.” She says, and Noelle rolls her eyes. Doing a double roll and sunrise aerial move, she quickly lowers them to the floor.

“Holy hell!” Charlie exclaims and she laughs loudly.

“Yeah, I know; I’m batman.” She says, her voice deep and scratchy.

“No, more like spider-man,” Charlie says, and they both laugh a lot, playfully shoving one another.

Throwing a hand mirror, Elysia ducks from it as quickly as she can; holding a pillow up in defense.

“How could you fucking do that? You ponce!” Thora yells, throwing several lipsticks at her sister.

“What? He was hot, I was horny.” She says, dodging a hairdryer.

“But Dean? Why Him? You know how much he means to Cas, even a halfwit bloke like you can sense their magic.” She says, gasping. “That’s what this is,” she whispers.

“That’s what this is what?” Elysia asks, narrowing her eyes.

“You bitch; this is all some pissing contest, you limey twat. Shagging him proves what? What?!” She screams, shoving her sister in the chest.

“Oh, please! There’s nothing to prove because I’m just better. All I wanted was a quick shag, nothing more.” Elysia says, taking a seat on the bed.

“Don’t fucking lie to me! I am your sister, and you will not pretend with me—you can’t, I know you.” She says, her hands shaking.

“I-I… I guess, maybe you’re a little right.” Elysia whispers, looking away.

“This thing, it ends now. Never tell Cas, that’s if she doesn’t know. Keep it in your knickers, arsehole.” She says, walking away.

…

“Ruby… how’d you end up out here?” He asks, giving money to the cashier for a hotdog. She shrugs, holding onto his jacket to keep it on her shoulders.

“I have a confession to make, and you are not gonna like it…” she says, looking away.

“Just tell me,” he says, smiling tightly.

“I’m going to California, and I-I wasn’t in trouble. But I know the only way to convince you is to get your dumb as out here,” she says, intertwining her fingers.

“What? Did you bring me here to fucking run away with you? I thought you were in trouble or worse,” he says, breathing heavily.

“Sam, you have so much untapped potential. Those people are not gonna help you,” she says, holding his hand in hers. “But… I will,” she says, smiling gently.

…

Suddenly, wrapped in the warm arms of a comforting man, she’s struck with an idea. One that might not be smart, but she smiles with the chance of it working.

“Dean, where were you last in the house? With Sam?” She asks, rubbing his chest hopefully.

“In his bedroom, like an hour ago or less. Why?” He says, confused.

“Perfect, let’s go.” She says, grabbing his hand. She’s walking through the house, quickly following the fading trail of his aura. They wind up in the garage, discovering a car is missing.

“He took the Firebird, but this isn’t where his aura ends.” She informs him, following the trail outside.

“Cas, what’re we looking for?” He asks, and she shrugs.

“Sam, obviously. But Dean, I’m not sure we’ll find what we’re hoping to.” She warns, and he catches her meaning; nodding.

“As long as we find him, I guess.” He says, sadly. Grabbing his hand, she takes flights. “JESUS!!” He screams, holding on tightly. Suddenly, she dives downward; landing on the ground safely.

What they see is… staggering, as well as confusing. It hurts, seeing this and-and the negative possibilities.

…

“Ruby, ‘those people’ have become like family. Granted all the rules seem like bull—but I can’t just leave!” He says disgruntled, plopping down on a bench.

“What is so wrong with leaving the nest?” She asks, sighing.

“Abandonment, that’s what this is. I can’t abdicate my responsibilities, I’m a part of a team—end of story. You just wouldn’t understand,” he says, scoffing.

“And if I did understand, more than you knew I did, how would you react?” She asks, edging closer to him.

“Trust me when I say you don’t have a clue what my life is really like,” he says, shaking his head.

“Hunter turned Wiccan, I think I have an inkling about what that’s like.” She blurts out, and he gasps; eyes wide.

“Y-you… what’re you talking about? You don’t know… oh god,” he whispers, distancing himself from her.

“What? I know your secret, that should be a good thing.” She says, smiling.

“It’s not! How long have you known?” He asks, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring from breathing so hard.

“I-I’ve known for a while, okay? But I’m here to help, to educate you. So much power, and it’s being stifled.” She says, shaking her head disappointedly.

“My potential is—”

“You have no clue, so don’t even pretend. Come with me Sam, my coven will take care of you—I promise!” She says excitedly, holding his hands in hers.

“Wait, but there aren’t any covens—”

“That’s a lie baby, okay? You were lied to, made to feel like you had little to no options.” She says, shaking her head.

“But… how would you know, unless…?” He trails off, unable to ask. She smiles, leaning in to kiss him and in a flash—her bluish-green eyes are consumed by obsidian. Shoving her away, he wipes his mouth in disgust.

“Y-you’re a fucking demon! What in the hell?” He gasps, backing away from her. She laughs deeply, shaking her head.

“Sammy, we’re all the same. We all fall from the same tree, but some of us apples decided not to rot waiting for a savior.” She says, and he narrows his eyes in confusion.

“What the hell does that even mean?” He asks, and she grins.

“You Wiccans needed a rescuer when you fell from so-called ‘grace’ but they didn’t come—not for centuries, anyway. At least our guy left footsteps in the sand to follow, you people were completely lost; confused.” She explains.

“I feel even further from understanding what the hell it is your saying,” he says, raising his voice.

“Sam, we had Lucifer—you had two idiots who didn’t teach you how to hide. He taught us to hide, you guys were burned at the stake before you learned.” She says, shaking her head.

“I don’t know what your… oh, fuck you. Look, Ruby—or whatever your name is—I don’t need your guidance, piss off.” He says, standing to walk away.

“I won’t hold you back like they do, I’ll let you lead baby boy.” She says, stopping him in his tracks. Spinning around, he scoffs; shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” He asks, confused. She stands up, strutting over to him. Smiling, she rests her hands on his shoulders.

“Sammy, you are a natural born leader. You can have your own coven… or, you can take that one.” She says, smiling devilishly.

“But Cas is the leader, I don’t—”

“She is because she says so, but rules were made to be broken, sweetheart.” She says, breathing heavily. Suddenly, she launches herself at him; pressing her lips to his. “That place should be yours, baby.” She whispers against his lips, kissing him deeply.

…

“What the hell happened?” She whispers, stepping closer to the demolished car. Sam isn’t inside, but there’s blood on the steering wheel.

“Cas, you picking up anything?” Dean asks, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Um… no, it entirely fades past this point.” She says, shaking her head. “Dean, either he disappeared or… he’s…” she can force the word past her lips, but she doesn’t have to. Dean nods, understanding her completely.

“But, not him. He shouldn’t be, man. He’s supposed to be safe here, goddamn it.” He says, banging his fist against the car.

“Look, he was safe. And then—because acting the ass runs in the Winchester genes—he fucking left! He wasn’t… he didn’t have to—why?!” She screams, sobbing into her hands. It hits him suddenly—that she most likely feels a million times guiltier; having been his guide and his protector. Pulling her into a hug, he lets her cry as much as she needs; holding her all the while.

“It’s okay, baby. You did your best, I swear. He might not be dead; we just need to find him. And you will, I know it.” He comforts, rocking her from side to side; kissing her hair. She nods against his chest; her body being wracked with sobs.

“I-I don’t know how we got here, I just don’t get why he’d leave.” She says, so lost, sniffling. Shaking her head, she steps away from him; wiping her eyes.

“Well, you know Sam. He was bound to break more rules, eventually.” He says, and she nods. Looking closely, examining the car, she closes her eyes. Touching the driver’s seat, she tries to sense his vibes.

“Dean, I don’t understand this. I can sense his essence because death leaves behind a rather nasty atmosphere; this isn’t that ambiance.” She says enlightens, but he only becomes more confused.

“So… he’s not dead?” He asks, and she shakes her head; smiling. He looks at her, his mind in disorder.

“No, he has just well and truly vanished.” She says, grinning mischievously. “And when we find him this time, he _will_ be rightly punished.”

…

Searching through the armory, she digs through a chest of talismans. Throwing around candles, sheathed athames, chalices, wooden deities, pentacles, stones and crystals, wands—

“I found it!” She shouts, and everyone rushes in.

“Is it the right… oh my god,” Demetria gasps, the sight before her so… perfect; absolutely pure. Castielle takes it out, the priceless and excellent crystal ball. The ball is sapphire, and the base is silver, engraved with symbols intertwined with roses and vines.

“I believe this should do the job, and bring our boy home.” She says, unable to pull her eyes from the glorious ball.    

“What should we do?” Thora asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Maybe we should have a séance!” Aurora proposes happily, nudging an uncomfortable Noelle. They all gather around, crowding into the confined space of the armory.

“Guys, we don’t need a séance for this; I’ve got it. Come on,” she says, heading over to the couches in the living room. Placing the crystal ball on her lap, she places both hands on it; gasping at the immediate spark.

“Castielle, are you sure you’ve got this?” Naomi asks.

“I can do this mom; I just need you guys to-to stand back a bit.  Your nervous energy is a damper on my mood,” she says jokingly, and everyone laughs.

“Okay, give her some space guys. Bring him home,” Charlie says, taking a seat with Noelle on her lap. Oh, nice.

“Lelantos, Artemis, deities of the hunt; help me find this lost boy. Show me where he’s run to, show me where he’s gone.” She invokes, and her eyes begin to glow the same color of the ball. She feels a strain as electricity scatters through the ball, it’s difficult to pinpoint a location.

“Is it working?” Elysia asks hopefully.

“Locate the lost boy, Sam Winchester, pierce the veil of deception and _find him_.” She demands, panting as she feels it becoming even more tough to find him. Her sclerae are absorbed in the radiating light.

“Cas, maybe you should just stop,” Dean says, edging closer to her. She holds a hand out to him, freezing him in place.

“Revela perierunt puerum mihi ostendis,” she strains, body bowing. “Non abscondas nunx reveletur.” She stresses, feeling her heart race as she gets closer to finding him.

…

Exploring her mouth with his tongue, suddenly he feels this-this strange sensation. It’s as if something—no, _someone_ is trying to invade his mind.

“Sam, is something wrong?” Ruby asks, running her hand through his hair. He shakes his head, rubbing his temple.

“Shit Ruby, I-I think she found us.” He says, panting.

 _“You’re damn right, Sammy. I want you to come home, I’m worried.”_ A voice says in his mind, distorted. He shakes his head as if to rid himself of the voice.

“You are not gonna get me, I’ll come back when I damn well please.” He says out loud, shaking with the strength of his laughter.

“Who the hell are you talking to, Sam?” Ruby asks, looking at him worriedly. Using as much power as he can muster, he kicks her out of his mind.

…

“Ah, fuck!” She screams, being thrown backward on the couch. She’s panting, holding her head in her hands.

“What happened?” Dean asks, rushing over to her.

“I don’t know, but I’m hoping I reached him.” She says, wiping her eyes.

…

“I’ll show you the way, Sam. I won’t stifle your growth, I swear.” She breathes against his lips, smiling. He nods, grabbing her hand. Closing his eyes, he uses the last of his power to teleport them home.

“Time to change some things,” he says, fading off into a white light.

…

Running up the basement stairs, they run through the house into the foyer—stopping in their tracks. Sam is back… with a blonde-haired woman on his arm, who has an atrocious smile.

“Sam!” She breathes, running to him. She pulls him into a tight hug, sighing. “I thought you were dead, or worse.” She says, looking up at him with hurt eyes.

“Where the hell were you little brother?” Dean asks, keeping his distance while the others flock around his brother.

“Ruby needed my help, I got into a car accident and then… I teleported to the airport. I’m sorry I upset you,” he says, eyes downcast.

“We were more scared than angry, Sam. You can’t just run off every time you feel like it,” she scolds, and he nods.

“I won’t do it again, but I-I have an announcement to make.” He says, and everyone stands to attention. “Ruby knows my secret, and she’s gonna stay with us from now on.” He says, and everyone gasps. He takes Ruby’s hand, walking away. He heads up the stairs, going to his bedroom. Whispers are heard, Castielle and Dean watch after them; shocked.

“She _cannot_ stay here,” she says to Dean, and he nods in agreement.

“I have no intuition skills, but I know she’s a problem. I just know it,” he says, angrily.

…

_Yeah, looking down on earth isn’t exactly entertaining. Witnessing so many things, and having not a single say in what’s transpiring; it truly isn’t much of an afterlife. She has no effect; she means nothing to the people below. It would be a better existence if her slate was wiped clean, but it isn’t; she sees absolutely everything. An eternity as a backseat driver, you know, if the actual driver couldn’t fucking hear you criticizing them. There are no rainbows and butterflies, but a cosmic awareness of everyone and everything, and the kick to the gonads of realization; no one is aware of you. You are truly and entirely deceased; a ghost, a memory, really. And if at some point you believe that the afterlife is a dream come true, it’s genuinely no more than a continuous nightmare; all of the things you hold dear on display for you to never see again. That is the afterlife you're waiting for; as an unseen narrator; your lines always a monologue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if it wasn't clear, I began and ended the chapter from the perspective of Meg, up in heaven; strumming her harp, bored as all hell.  
> Hope you like it, there's more when that comes from dudes.
> 
> P.S. I really appreciate comments guys, it lets me know people still read this shit and that I'm doing a good job. Just saying.
> 
> Castielle - http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=209686012


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I wrote this and I am kinda/sorta proud of it. The chapters from 17 to 25 are gonna be a lot longer.  
> Lots of establishing to do and to be had, so enjoy!

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/its_perfect_here_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=207146837)

_The world seems so immoral, especially when you’re stuck in eternal paradise, watching all the misgivings and wrongdoings that take place beneath her feet. She used to partake in some of the crimes, happily living without a care._

_“If I could, I’d be down there now, helping put those ingrates back in their place.” She says, sighing deeply. She watches as Castielle trains them in combat, being antagonized by the dog in a skirt known as Ruby._

_“You shine in comparison to her, yet for some reason you can’t see the depravity beneath. She’s impure… please see it soon, my love.” She says, sighing dejectedly._

_“Beware of the snake in the grass, for it slithers near you.” She warns, closing her eyes and waving her hand; ridding herself of the world below._

…

“This room is your sanctuary, where you can freely learn and practice. The walls of this basement are reinforced with magic, as you can see.” Castielle says, pointing to the symbols on all the walls. “You can use this as a very comfortable panic room in case we’re under attack again,” she says, shifting the responsibility onto Noelle.

“Do you feel safe here?” Noelle asks, walking back and forth, straightening some of the girls so they stand firmly.

“Yes ma’am,” they all say simultaneously.

“Why?” Noelle asks, quirking a brow.

“Because inside these walls we can be ourselves, we can practice magic, and we can test the limitations to reality.” They all answer in unison.

“Your adversaries don’t want you to feel safe, they don’t want you to do well; they want to see you suffer,” Charlie says, pacing.

“Your enemies will _not_ fight fair, so we’re gonna fight dirty,” Castielle announces, with her hands interlocked behind her back.

“Use the skills you’ve been taught, fight and debilitate. Survive,” Noelle says, smiling happily; still satisfied with their slogan.

“Maybe we should just use guns,” Ruby says provokingly, placing her hands on her narrow hips.

“Immobilize, do not kill. What about that oath don’t you get?” Demetria asks, rolling her eyes.

“I want you all to remember, we need to protect the innocent and the ignorant,” Castielle says, and she smiles when her students salute her. 

“You will _always_ be safe here, for as you protect the innocent, we will all protect each other,” Charlie says, smiling.

“What’s next boss?” Thora asks, stretching.

“Alright, now, when it comes to monsters I want you to use your combat skills as well as magic. Use all your resources,” she says, using the punching bag for example.

“Um… why are Charlie and Noelle instructing with you?” Adina asks, raising a hand timidly.

“Oh, their abilities are a bit more advanced than you guys’, so they teach with me.” Castielle explains and voices rise as they murmur amongst themselves.

“What, you don’t trust us to guide you?” Noelle asks, scoffing.

“You _are_ pretty young and new to the craft, maybe this job isn’t for you.” Ruby doubts and the whispers get louder; causing confusion.

“Silence!” Castielle shouts, voice booming. “What I say goes, and I deem Charlie and Noelle fit for the job. End of discussion.” She says, figuratively putting her foot down.

“Shouldn’t we at least see that they’re fit before we follow?” Ruby asks, folding her arms. Noelle rolls her eyes, stepping forward.

“Charlie?” Noelle asks.

“On it,” She says, snapping her fingers. Suddenly, several large men surround Noelle, fists raised.

…

She scans her surroundings, seeing eight men have closed in on her; leaving no room for escape.

“My current situation seems hopeless, but it really isn’t,” Noelle says, smirking. She punches one man in the face, dropping down in a split to duck another’s attack. She kicks the legs out from under two guys, and then she does a handstand; wrapping her legs around a man’s neck, lifting herself up and then she falls effortlessly into a backbend; throwing him into the far wall.

“Now, you’d think your low on energy, but we have magic on our side.” She says, laughing. Scanning now, she still has six more left. She jumps up, doing a double kick into two men’s throats; incapacitating them quickly. Doing an aerial flip, she kicks one in the face—knocking him out. She smiles, now having three opponents left.

“When you’re down to your last, that’s when you can have a bit of fun.” She says, doing an axe kick; striking the man behind her in the face.

“Or, you can use magic—since you have that one your side,” Noelle says, smiling. “Apollo, god of the sun, father of music and light; rain down your power upon my enemies!” She invokes and she slowly levitates, skin glowing. The men glow as well, and their essence is absorbed into her awaiting palms—and her eyes snap open, radiating white light. Everyone looks away or covers their eyes, the mystical light nearly blinding when looking at it directly. And suddenly—it’s gone, Noelle dropping back to the ground.

…

Opening her eyes, Castielle is surprised to see all of the men are just… gone. And when she lays eyes on Noelle, she gasps, covering her mouth. Noelle’s gray hair is longer, with little sparks of power crackling every now and again. And there are colors in it now, dark violets and blues at the tips. Slowly, her lips form a smile. Noelle is so very gorgeous, not just physically, but the power she radiates… it’s wonderful.

“You are amazing,” Castielle says, laughing as she pulls Noelle into a hug. One at a time, everyone uncovers their eyes, seeing that nothing has been destroyed.

“What… what the fuck happened?” Thora asks, confused. Noelle shrugs, throwing an arm over Castielle’s shoulders.

“I guess I don’t know my own strength,” Noelle says, laughing.

“And where are the goons?” Ruby asks, her arms folded.

“Well, I took care of them. I absorbed the mirage’s essence, but if they were real, I would’ve just sent them home.” Noelle explains, smiling.

“That was awesome, I’d love to know how you did that,” Sam says, smiling as he leads Noelle away from the group.

“Any other questions?” Charlie asks Ruby, scowling hatefully. Ruby just scoffs, walking away to follow after Sam. 

“So gang, I think tonight we should kick some more as. I’ll give you a location, but you are to solely depend on each other.” Castielle informs them, and they all whine incoherently. “Glad to hear you’re all excited,” she says, laughing. Walking away, she heads for the stairs out of the basement.

“Hey Cas, wait!” Dean calls, running over to her. “Where you headed?” He asks, a bit breathless, smiling.

“I’m going to read my favorite book,” she says, smiling.

“Oh, the Book of Shadows—nice, can I tag along?” He asks, chuckling nervously. Before she can help herself, she nods.

“No one has ever seen me in the zone, not from beginning to end, anyway.” She says, grinning. “Noelle, Charlie, train them!” She yells over her shoulder.

…

Taking a seat on her bed, she pulls the book out of her bedside table. Placing it on the bed in between her and Dean, she opens it.

“What I’m about to share with you is something beyond what most can comprehend, but you’re a rarity in this rat race—so you’ll be fine.” She says, smirking.

“Is this gonna be a séance or something, Cas?” He asks, biting his lower lip. “I want to witness your power, but…” he trails off, nervous.

“You have nothing to fear, I’ll always protect you, Dean. Unless you fuck me over,” she says, smiling softly.

“Awesome, let’s get the ball rolling.” He says, interlocking his fingers. She rolls her eyes, flipping through a couple more pages.

“If you feel anything… tell me,” she says, and he furrows his brow. “Elements protect this book, from wondering eyes and prying look. And fill it with Thine ancient power, in this right and ready hour.” She chants, gasping, her eyes suddenly glowing.

“Cas—”

“This is good, Dean, I-I feel so much power.” She says, panting.

…

As he’s watching Castielle, he witnesses something truly beautiful. The words in the book are glowing, slowly rising from the pages and being absorbed in her forearms. She gasps and shudders, and her hair begins to glow too.

“Hecate, Hecate, hearken well. Lend your power to my spell, Hecate, Hecate, hearken well; help me weave my magic well.” She chants, gasping as she glows brighter. Symbols begin to appear along the length of her biceps and forearms, and she moans as she rolls her neck.

“Cas, you are so lovely,” he whispers, leaning forward to touch her face—which is hot, causing him to pull his hand away quickly.

“Great mother, release me from your spell,” Castielle says and sighs as the light radiating from her slowly dims and she’s freed from her enthrallment; slumping forward—and he catches her.

“Hey, hey, you with me, Cas?” He asks, rubbing her shoulders.

“You know, Dean, I’ve never told anyone but magic makes me really, really horny.” She says, her voice low and sultry. And suddenly, she launches at him, pressing her lips to his. He buries his hand in her hair, trying to control her as she licks his lips and kisses him deeply; massaging his tongue with her own.

“Cas, your hair got longer,” he whispers, rubbing her tongue with his own. “So sexy,” he says, tightening his hand in her hair.

“Shut up, take off your pants.” She says, sitting up to unbuckle his belt. She’s straddling him, grinding on him roughly.

…

He kisses Castielle deeply; his tongue exploring her mouth. An idea strikes him, and he picks her up, taking them over to her dresser. Grabbing her hips from behind, their eyes meet in the mirror. And slowly, the corners of her mouth turn up.

“Go for it,” she whispers, bracing her hands against the dresser. Unzipping his jeans, he pulls out his cock, slowly easing his way into her tight heat.

“Fuck,” he hisses, resting his head against her back. “God, you are so fucking wet and tight,” he says, sighing deeply.

“Don’t savor the moment, fuck me!” She grunts, pressing back into him; fucking herself on his hard cock.

“Jesus, you are wild,” he says, thrusting into her. He fucks her quickly, grabbing her shoulder to push himself in harder—quicker.

“Oh my god, fuck, I love your dick.” She moans, mouth agape. They lock eyes in the mirror, and she smiles; pushing back into every thrust. Dean reaches around, rubbing her clit. She bucks hard, bracing her hands against the mirror. He fucks her harder, feeling her tighten around him; nearing her climax.

“Fuck, baby, take that shit.” He says, grabbing her hair. He feels her get wetter suddenly, and his orgasm just comes crashing down.

“Oh, Dean, I’m cumming!” She yells, and under her hands, the mirror shatters—and they jump backward.

“What the hell?” He says, confused, pulling out of her gently.

“I-I guess that was a really good orgasm,” she says, shrugging.

“Oh, okay. Cool, let’s lay down.” He says, and she nods, snapping her fingers—and suddenly they're both naked.

“You have a wonderful body, just so you know.” She says, smiling. She touches his abdomen, and then shoves him, pushing him onto the bed. Castielle straddles him, resting her face in the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her blankets over them too. After a beat of silence, stroking her bicep, he gets curious.

“So, what’s with these symbols?” He asks, and her blue eyes snap up to him, looking through dark lashes.

“Well, this one is the symbol of Diana, this is the symbol of the Horned God, and Hecate, a pentacle, a triple crescent, and a witch’s knot.” She says, pointing to these various dark markings.

“I’m usually not into tattoos, but this is kinda sexy.” He says, chuckling.

“Dean, these are designs, their symbols of my power. But this,” she says, pointing to her ‘Meg’ tattoo. “Is a tattoo, which is a symbol of… of my loss.” She says, lowering her eyes.

“Jesus, Cas—”

“Yeah, I realize I’ve made this horribly awkward and-and I’m really sorry.” She says, turning around, pressing her back to his chest.

“I can’t deny that, but it’s alright. I don’t understand this-this _whatever_ it is between us, Cas, but it works, and I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to her—even if you do,” he says, rubbing her arm gently.

“I shouldn’t forgive you, I should still have the same fiery hatred I did before but… it’s gone, not a spark of fury left.” She explains, and he feels her shake a bit.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore,” he whispers after a beat, kissing her shoulder blade softly.

…

Noelle stretches on her bedroom floor, doing a seal stretch, and then she sits up on her knees, bending backward to grab her ankles; rolling backward into a standing position.

“Love the cool moves, baby,” Charlie says, surprising her. “Glad to see you escaped the groupies,” she says, smiling.

“Hey, yeah, I’ve been in here for a minute. What were you up to?” She asks, resting her hands on Charlie’s shoulder and kissing her lips quickly.

“Um, nothing, just hanging with the girls—they did my hair!” She says excitedly, turning her head to reveal a braid with flowers and leaves in it.

“Lovely, you look really pretty,” she says, touching Charlie’s soft red hair.

“So, after that performance, I deem you Harley fucking Quinn,” Charlie says, and they both burst out laughing.

“Thank you, it’s an honor,” Noelle says, hugging Charlie tightly. “I hope we’re fit for the job,” she whispers.

“Oh, baby, we are. Trust me,” Charlie says, hugging her girlfriend tightly.

“But, Cas wants us to lead them—I can’t do that.” She says quietly and she hears Charlie scoff.

“After what you did today, I know you’re ready. I believe in you, Noelle.” She says, pulling away from her to smile gently.

“Charlie, I feel like I have this power in me that I haven’t tapped into yet—like there’s more to discover, and I just can’t access it.” She says, lowering eyes.

“Well, let’s talk to Castielle, I’m sure she can help.” Charlie proposes and Noelle smiles gratefully.

…

Pacing back and forth on the patio, Sam shakes his head. He sees Ruby, punching the air with one hand and slicing it with the other.

“Rubes, why didn’t she promote me? I’m worthy, I’m powerful!” He shouts, throwing his beer bottles to the ground; shards fly, liquid spills.

“Because she’s a jealous bitch and she knows you’ll overpower her, then everyone will follow you instead,” Ruby says nonchalantly.

“But, I want her approval, I want to make her proud when she sees how strong I am. It’s weird,” he says confusedly, lowering his eyes in shame. Ruby grabs his chin in her hand, raising his head.

“Don’t sulk, power up. Once she sees you can do the shit she can, she’ll have to pay attention. But… we’d need something,” she says, looking away.

“What do we need?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Well, I need a teensy favor, loverboy. I’d need that little black book of hers,” she says, smiling.

“The Book of Shadows? No, it belongs to her—”

“It belongs to the members of the craft, aka you, dipwad!” Ruby shouts, shoving him backward by his shoulders.

“F-fine, I’ll try to get it late. I think she keeps it in her room,” he says, and Ruby slowly smiles, throwing her arms over his shoulders and kissing him.

…

“Mommy, why does she spend so much time with him?” Anna asks, flinching as her mother combs through another lock of her hair.

“Well, baby, Castielle’s in a bit of a pickle. She’s not in love with him, yet she depends on him for affection.” Naomi explains, parting Anna’s hair down the middle.

“God, when can we get powers?” Samandriel asks crossly. “I want to kick his ass so bad,” he says, folding his arms and pouting.

“Samandriel! Watch your mouth,” Naomi scolds, her eyes narrowed. “Now, you probably won’t be able to access your magic until puberty.” She explains, braiding a section of Anna’s hair.

“But Castielle started practicing magic at nine!” Anna complains, playing with her braid.

“Yeah, that’s not fair,” Samandriel complains.

“Look, your sister was an early bloomer. She’s always been… gifted,” Naomi says, smiling to herself proudly.

“Are we done yet?” Anna asks, wiping her eyes as tears form.

“Almost… done, what do you think?” Naomi asks, and Anna smiles as she takes a look at her pigtails.

“I love it!” She says, turning around to hug her mother tightly.

…

Knocking gently on Castielle’s door, Charlie and Noelle wait a few seconds for a response before Noelle just barges in—immediately regretting it.

“Noelle! Jesus, knock!” Castielle yells, pulling her blanket up to cover her tits. “What do you want?” She asks with her eyes narrowed.

“Well, baby, obviously she wants a show,” Dean says, laughing when Castielle throws a pillow over his face.

“Um, I was looking for guidance but I clearly got more than I bargained for.” She says eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, shit, sorry. Come in, please.” Castielle says, snapping her fingers and covering both herself and Dean in dark silk robes.

“Okay, well can we talk in private? Please,” Noelle says, looking from Dean to Castielle.

“Sure, Dean, Chucky—beat it.” She orders and Dean groans before hopping out of bed and leaving with Charlie.

“So, I feel like I’m not reaching my full potential,” Noelle says, cutting straight to the point. She sits at Castielle’s vanity, playing with her stuff.

“Well, how would you like me to fix that?” She asks with her eyes worried.

“Um, I don’t know, how do you do your power-ups?” Noelle asks in return, and Castielle chuckles.

“The book, obviously. Come here, let’s have a read.” She says, and the book manifests on the bed. Noelle sits down across from Castielle, folding her legs in.

“What do I do?” She asks with her eyes fixed on the powerful book.

“Take my hand and use your free hand to touch the pages,” Castielle instructs, flipping through the pages quickly before deciding on one. They touch hands, gasping at the spark the connection causes.

“I will never get used to how complete I feel just touching a sister of the craft,” Noelle says, sighing deeply.

“Neither will I,” Castielle says, smiling. “Alright, let’s do this. Elements protect this book, from wondering eyes and prying look. And fill it with thine ancient power, in this right and ready hour.” She says, closing her eyes.

“Awesome,” she whispers, seeing the words on the page glow brightly. Castielle opens her eyes and flips through some pages, unable to find what she needs.

“Athena, grant me the wisdom to find—whoa,” Castielle says, seeing the pages turn wildly before suddenly stopping.

“What is it?” Noelle asks, leaning forward. At the top of the page, there is a painting. It’s a woman, she has wild flowers in her red hair—the page is called ‘A Prayer to Rhiannon.’

“Well, Athena led me to this—so read it, we’ll see what happens,” Castielle says, smiling confidently and turning the book around to Noelle can see.

“Um, okay. Ride forth on white steed from your faery mound Rhiannon, with ancient ears; hear my sound. Bring to me your fertile magick, let it exclude all things tragic.” She reads and suddenly she gasps. The words on the page begin to glow, slowly slithering from the book to her waiting hand.

“Don’t fight what you feel, answer the magic’s call.” Castielle instructs and Noelle begins to pant.

“Rhiannon, B-Bacchus, I invoke thee, in this right and ready hour, clear the fog; reveal my power!” She shouts, and feels a bit of power course through her. 

“Mother goddess, protect this child; from demons, hunters, and all beings wild.” Castielle chants, her eyes closed, hoping to help clear the path for Noelle. She opens her eyes, and smiles as she sees a light bloom from within Noelle; shining from her heart outward through her body.

“Castielle, what’s happening to me?” She asks shakily, slowly rising from the bed. The shades to her bedroom window rip open, revealing blinding light. This light strikes Noelle in her abdomen and causes her skin to glow. Her entire body is radiating heat and light, and Castielle has to squint in order to see Noelle.

“AHHH!” Noelle screams, the heat in her body all-consuming.

…

“AHHH!”

“Shit, what the hell was that?” Dean asks and when Charlie tries to open the door to Castielle’s bedroom, she has to pull her hand away—the knob being incredibly hot.

“Dean, it’s hot as fuck. What the hell?” She whispers, looking to her friend helplessly. Light is glowing from inside the room, they can see it from around the doorframe.

“Cas! Cas, what’s going on in there?!” Dean yells, pounding his fist against the door. He doesn’t get a response, and so he pulls out his gun. But suddenly, he hears a voice booming from inside the bedroom.

…

“Child, why did you summon me? For I have not seen such bright lights since mind were vanquished,” Rhiannon says, her many voices distorted.

“I-I believe I have a greater power, I was hoping you would show me what it is,” Noelle explains, gasping when she feels fingers she can’t see touching her body.

“You do indeed have so much magic within you, and it’s about time we let it out. I grace you with my gift, as a beneficiary of a sun goddess; be swift.” Rhiannon says, and Noelle feels more power than ever before course through her body.

“I am a child of light, thank you, mother.” She says, a tear falling from her eye. And in a blink—Rhiannon is gone, and the room dims greatly and she drops back to the bed.

…

“Mm, baby—wait, I feel something,” Ruby says, sitting up abruptly. She’s straddling Sam in his bed, looking around.

“Bout time, I’ve been sporting wood for a minute now.” He says, chuckling.

“No, you nitwit, I feel something in the ether. Someone just popped their cherry, and they are _very_ powerful.” She says, smiling.

“Okay, I don’t see why that matters. Can we get back to…?” He asks and Ruby rolls her eyes.

“I don’t want to fuck you; I want to see who has all this power.” She says, climbing out of bed and heading for the door.

“Uhn, wait!” Sam says, reaching for her and falling out of bed.

…

Sam and Ruby join them right when they see the light is gone, and they open the door—shocked to see everything is still in one piece.

“What the hell—oh, my god.” Charlie whispers, covering her mouth. Noelle, her violet eyes are glowing still, and her hair has more color in it. The girl’s skin has bits of lightning crackling beneath it, and she looks beautiful.

“I-I think Noelle is a goddess or something,” Castielle says, eyes wide and unblinking. Ruby scoffs, hands on her hips.

“Wait, Noelle is the one who—”

“I think that if I wasn’t as powerful as I am, I’d be dead.” She says distractedly, looking around; eyes unfocused.

“Thank you for guiding me down this path, I am so incredibly grateful,” Noelle says, sobbing. She pulls Castielle into a hug, crying into her neck.

“It’s okay, I’m here to help. No matter what,” she says, shushing Noelle.

“Are you alright, Cas?” Dean asks her, and she shrugs. “Well, since we’re gonna hunt at sundown, I’d like to hang out while we’ve still got daylight.” He says, and she smiles.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” she whispers, rubbing Noelle’s back soothingly.

…

Many of the girls are in the kitchen, laughing loudly and throwing popcorn at each other. Castielle is in the mix, either blocking the attacks or throwing some back.

“Look! It’s not my fault you bitches can’t get with Tim Burton, but his movies rule! Ah!” She yells, laughing when Elysia throws popcorn at her.

“I believe that Alfred Hitchcock is the superior man, his crazy can’t be matched,” Elysia says, snatching a Twizzler from Demetria.

“No way! As far as crazy goes, Ryan Murphy takes the cake with AHS. Hands down,” Demetria says, laughing.

“Whatever, you brats, how would y’all know?” Castielle says, shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

“No one wants to admit that Ang Lee is the master of crazy, just look at Hulk,” Noelle says and everyone throws popcorn at her.

“Sorry to break up your giggle party, girls, but Cas and I have a date,” Dean says, walking into the kitchen in a black leather jacket with a black Henley and distressed jeans.

“Ooh,” everyone says and then they laugh.

“You gonna go to third base?” Aurora asks, smirking.

“Been there, done that,” Castielle says, chuckling. “Anyway, let me go change really quick.” She says, disappearing.

“Okay, seriously, I’m getting tired of that shit.” He says, shaking his head.

…

In her bedroom, she searches her closet for the best outfit she can find and then grabs something better. She grabs a high-necked crop top with a waist strap, strapped shorts with a garter design that connects to her thigh-high leather stiletto boots. Digging through her jewelry box, she picks choker necklace with beaded detailing and a cross pendant along with matching earrings.

“Great, I’m ready to fuck.” She says, giggling as she teleports back to her friends and her… date.

…

“Baby, this power isn’t gonna go to my head. I swear,” Noelle says, raising two fingers. “Scouts honor,” she says, smiling.

“You were never a scout,” Charlie says, laughing.

“Get a room!” Thora shouts, laughing. She flicks through the pages of People magazine, taking a look at the fall fashion.

“It’s not our fault you guys are nuns while we get snizz on the reg,” Noelle says, chuckling.

“Whatever,” Thora says, rolling her eyes.

“I think it’s so sweet that they’re going on a date, they need it,” Aurora says, smiling happily. Demetria rolls her eyes, braiding another piece of Aurora’s hair.

“It’s sweet and all, but those two aren’t meant to be.” She says, combing her fingers through the silky ginger hair.

“Now why the hell would you say something like that?” Adina says, dropping her drumstick back on her saucer.

“Because we all know what he did,” Demetria says in a hushed tone. “He killed that poor witch, without a second thought.” She says, shaking her head.

“I bet he doesn’t even feel guilty for putting Cassie in so much pain,” Adina says, voice melancholy.

“Hey, he completely regrets it. He deserves a chance for redemption,” Charlie says and Noelle scoffs at her girlfriend.

“No, he does not deserve a chance—not one. He killed her, he and his family destroyed Castielle, and she had to pick herself back up.” Noelle says, looking amongst her group of friends.

“Elle, I love you buddy, but you cannot pretend he isn’t a good man. He made a mistake—we all do!” Elysia says, exhaling sharply.

“He is an irredeemable asshole, end of—”

“Whoa! Take a chill pill, guys.” Ruby says, laughing as her and Sam strut into the room. “You guys must not realize how loud you are,” she says, opening the fridge and grabbing a few things.

“This conversation does _not_ concern you,” Noelle growls through clenched teeth, stepping towards Ruby—being stopped by Charlie’s hand on her upper arm.

“I feel like it is, considering you’re talking about the boss’ brother. Where is he, by the way?” Ruby asks, folding her arms, smirking.

…

As they walk around a nearby lake, she can hardly ignore the sound of her heels hitting the ground as they fill up the deafening silence.

“So, where’d you hear about this place?” She asks, brushing her hair behind her ear. Dean shrugs, putting his hands in the pocket of his leather jacket.

“Um, I found it on Google. Said it was a pretty place, I’m unimpressed.” Dean says, and she scoffs. Taking a look at the beautiful pastoral scene before them, the gorgeous fall flowers, and the trees changing colors— she can’t see why he feels this way.

“What the hell makes you think this place is subpar?” She asks, smiling tightly.

“Considering I’m with one of the most fascinating beauties in this and all the surrounding states, I think I can deem this place subpar and unimpressive,” Dean says, laughing. She grins—practically ear to ear—feeling her cheeks heat.

“Well, now that I have this new perspective… thank you.” She says, standing on her tiptoes a bit to kiss him on the cheek.

“No problem, Cas, I’m just telling it how it is. By the way, I love your smile.” He says, kissing her on the forehead. He slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her body to his. After a beat, she asks a balls to the walls question.

“Um, can we go ice-skating?” She asks with her blue eyes so hopeful, smiling brightly.

“Dude, it’s not even snowing. I mean, how are we gonna…?” he trails off when she inclines her head toward the lake. Smiling in unison, they run off to the lake. They get there quickly, and Castielle dips a hand in the water, closing her eyes.

“Water please, water freeze. Water please, water freeze.” She whispers and from her hand outward, the water freezes over.

“Whoa, you are fucking awesome,” Dean says, completely in awe. “Let’s go!” He yells, pulling her onto the ice.

“Ah, no!” She screams, laughing as they slip and slide on the ice.

…

“You aren’t even supposed to be here, so therefore this conversation has _nothing_ to do with you,” Adina says, breathing heavily with anger.

“But I’m with Sam and he has a certain authority here, so don’t pretend you don’t know it.” Ruby counters, shrugging nonchalantly. She grabs an apple, wiping it on her red leather jacket and taking a loud bite of the juicy fruit.

“Rubes, I don’t think you should—”

“Rubes? Are you kidding me, Sam? Why are you involved with this bitch?” Charlie asks as green energy sparks in her clenched fists.

“She is no good for you, all she does is antagonize and you damn well know it,” Demetria says, hopping down from the counter agitatedly.

“Look, don’t act like this. She’s my girlfriend and—”

“And nothing, Sam. You cannot stand there with that bitch and expect us to still be cool,” Charlie says, eyes glowing.

“Guys, we can’t sit here and act like we’re not friends. Yeah, we don’t know Ruby and don’t trust her but we shouldn’t be rude.” Elysia says, ever the peacekeeper.

“Zip it, sis, she’s just a little slut looking for a place to shack up,” Thora says, elbowing Elysia in the side.

“I am not, I’m here for Sam you prissy little bitches. I actually see his potential, and you don’t.” Ruby says through clenched teeth, finally shedding her mask of calm.

“Shut up, Ruby!” Sam says, breathing heavily. Everyone just starts yelling, voices completely indiscernible.

“No, okay? You need respect. And these little douchebags—”

“SILENCE!” Elysia roars with her hands raised, lightning flashing and thunder clapping, her voice echoing off the walls of the kitchen. Everyone’s eyes are on Elysia and they stare with their mouths agape, taken by surprise with her appearance. Her skin and hair are crackling with bits of silver lightning every few seconds, appalling.

“Well, this is off the wall batshit crazy,” Noelle says with her eyes wide. Elysia is radiating electric light, skin glowing.

“If I’d have known a little confrontation would bring out the anger in my sister, I would’ve pissed her off sooner. Heh!” Thora yells, guffawing loudly, elbowing her sister in the side. The laughter dies down quickly, Thora being the only one whose laughing.

“What-what’s wrong with your hands?!” Adina asks and Thora looks down to her hands quickly, breathing heavily with confusion. Her hands are black with a dark fog around them and suddenly—she screams.

“Nooo! What’s happenin’ to me?” Thora asks, crying out when she shakes her hands and the foggy darkness remains.

…

“Ha! You are so bad at this, but I love it.” She says, giggling. They’re holding hands as they skate, doing it properly after she manifested ice-skates.

“Well forgive me if I didn’t have a ton of money to throw to material things,” he says, chuckling.

“Wait, you didn’t do _anything_ fun during your childhood?” She asks, befuddled. “That’s insane, considering when you lost your mom.” She says, shaking her head.

“I lost her at four and my dad trained me from then on to be a soldier,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Dean,” she says, stopping them and grabbing him by the coat collar. “I want to show you what you missed, it’s not fair.” She says, pulling him down to her and kissing his soft lips.

“I-I-I don’t what to say, um, sure. Yeah, I’d be down for that.” He says, his eyes closed. “But what would that entail?” He asks, opening them slowly to see that it’s snowing all around them.

“Well, I want to give you everything, baby. I want to show you everything good and sweet and pleasant,” she says, wrapping her arms around him. He returns the hug tightly, resting his chin on her head.

“I think I can go for that,” he whispers, grabbing her under her chin and pulling her lips to his own; kissing her deeply.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to fuck in the snow and not die of hypothermia.” She whispers, smiling against his lips.

“Heh, I’d like that too.” He says, kissing her neck. “Um, I understand why you aren’t cold but am I not dying?” He asks and she laughs.

“Because I’m keeping us warm, just like I’m keeping this lake frozen and just like I’m causing it to snow.” She says, smiling softly.

“Um, you’re a goddess?” He asks and she laughs loudly.

“Stop asking questions and take off my clothes,” she says, pulling him into another sensual kiss. He slides her coat off her shoulders, dropping it on the ice. Dean kisses her neck, licking and kissing until he reaches the junction that connects neck to shoulder and he bites gently. Gasping, she throws her head back in pleasure.

“Your skin is practically edible,” he whispers into her neck, blowing cool air on her skin, causing her to shudder. She rests her hands on his biceps, gripping him tightly.

“Please, don’t stop,” she gasps, resting her forehead on his shoulder. Suddenly, she feels something vibrating by her feet. Reluctantly, she puts her hand to his chest; stopping him. She crouches down, digging in her coat pocket for her iPhone.

“What’s up, Cas?” He asks her, confused. “Who’s calling?” He asks, pulling her into a hug as she takes a call.

“Um, hello?” She says into the phone, gasping. “What happened? Is she okay—no, no, we’ll come back. Right now, yeah. Okay, bye.” She says into the phone, shutting it off.

“What’s going on?” He asks and she looks at him with lost azure eyes, taking him by the hand and guiding him to the car.

“Problem at the coven, we’ve got to get out of here.” She says and they slowly fade away along with the Impala. The snow stops falling immediately, the lake melting back to its liquid form, everything transforming back to normal.

…

While everyone is distracted by Thora’s hands and Elysia’s hair, Ruby grabs Sam by the hand and sneaks upstairs quickly and undetected. She walks down the long hallway, stopping at Castielle’s bedroom door and opening it slowly; quietly. Stepping over the threshold, she’s struck with feeling immediately. She feels the holy vibes rolling off the place and her eyes flash black, iris and sclera being absorbed in obsidian.

“Custodi me,” she says in Latin and feels a bit stronger, her eyes turning normal once more. Laughing, she sees Sam standing outside the bedroom. She offers her hand and he takes it reluctantly.

“What’s the purpose of being in here, now?” He asks and she pulls him inside, shrugging.

“See what we can see, try to find that damn book.” She says, opening and shutting drawers; rifling through Castielle’s things.

“And if we find it, then what?” He asks, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. She shrugs, checking under the bed too. She opens Castielle’s bedside table drawer, gasping when she finds it.

“Bingo,” she whispers, pulling the book out. “The Book of Shadow, what a rare and powerful fucking thing.” She says, taking the book and heading for the door. As she walks out—the book is ripped from her hand, flying onto the bedroom floor.

“Ha, she hexed it. I'm sorry you can’t take it,” he says, laughing a bit. Ruby looks at him with wild eyes, breathing heavily.

“I didn’t cause all that fucking mayhem for nothing, asshole.” She says, picking up the book and sitting down on Castielle’s bed with it.

“Wait, you did that intentionally? You made them all go fucking crazy?” He asks, confused.

“Well, I didn’t know Thora and Elysia would go berserk like that—but everything else was me. It’s all a part of the plan, baby.” Ruby explains and when he takes a seat on the bed, she kisses him on the lips.

“Ruby, I’m betraying Castielle’s trust—”

“Screw her trust, she’s keeping this magic from all of you. Besides, it shouldn’t work if you aren’t strong enough.” She says, flipping through the pages of the book. “Read this, bless the book and you bless yourself.” She explains, handing over the book to him.

“Uh, elements protect this book from wondering eyes and prying look. And fill it with thine ancient power, in this right and ready hour.” He says and his hand is pulled to the book like a magnet to metal, gasping as the words glow; crawling from the page to his hand.

“Blodeuwedd, fair maiden behind a face made of flowers, lie mysteries; beginnings, the knowing eyes of owls,” Ruby says with her eyes transfixed on Sam as he shudders with the new addition to his powers.

“Ruby, what-what do I do now? I feel like I’m missing so much,” he whispers and gasps.

“Pray to Gaea, she’ll bring you power.” She says, rubbing his arm. “She looks upon you with favor, baby.” She says, smiling. With lightning quick speed, he grabs her hand—his head snaps upward—eyes black—and they disappear from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hope you enjoyed this shitfest of fuckery. Now, fair warning, the chapters are gonna slow down a bit.  
> I'm with my family and these kids are driving me nucking futs!! Also, I've written these chapters out of order so chapter 23 is ready but chapter 19 is still in progress so... yeah...sorry.  
> Have a great weekend even if it's almost over!
> 
> Oh, and Castielle wore this http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_723/set?id=209074592 for the entire chapter after their date.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry I'm late with this week's chapter. Enjoy!

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/our_eden_my_love/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=208637534)

As they walk into the mansion, she can hear everyone yelling immediately. Quickly, they run towards the noise, into the kitchen. 

“What’s going on in here?!” She yells, garnering everyone’s attention. “I’m gone for like an hour and this is what you all do? Argue like children?” She scolds, laying her coat over a chair by the kitchen counter. 

“Great, Cas, your—”

“Zip it, Adina. What the hell is going on, Noelle? Charlie? You guys are in charge, so I want an explanation.” She says, folding her arms. 

“Well, we were talking about your date with Dean and they said some things so I said some things and—”

“Whatever the hell I do with Dean is none of your business Noelle, no matter how much you care.” She says, shaking her head.

“Look, she has a right to say her opinion. She’s earned that. Plus the argument was Ruby’s fault, anyway.” Charlie says, defending Noelle. 

“How was this Ruby’s fault, huh? How was any of this her fault?” She asks, gritting her teeth to stave off the anger.

“B-because we don’t know how to fix this and it didn’t happen until Ruby ticked us off,” Elysia says, voice quivering. Castielle turns around and sees Thora and Elysia holding each other, shaking, both of them a lightning house of power. Thora’s hands are black and look as if there’s a storm cloud around them—generating a bit of wind—while Elysia’s skin is like a bulb that’s nearly burnt out; flickering and creating bright light every now and then.

“What happened?” She whispers with her face scrunched in complete confusion. “Girls, I don’t understand… what did you _do_?” She presses and the twins lower their eyes.

“We’ve never fought like this before, Cas, we-we have _never_ tried to hurt each other.” Thora says, looking at her sister apologetically. 

“I can’t stop this from happening, but I feel myself draining.” Elysia says, brushing her short hair behind her ear.

“Okay, come here guys.” Castielle instructs and the twins walk over to her—in sync. “Better yet, stay there. Um, separatum,” she says and the girls gasp, bodies immediately strung tight. They scream, being thrown in opposite directions across the room. 

“I-I think that did it, mate,” Thora says, groaning from across the room, body draped across the dining room table. 

“Where. Is. Ruby?” Castielle says through gritted teeth, thunder clapping outside when she clenches her fist; cracking the knuckles. 

…

“Jesus, Sam! Warn a girl before you do that,” Ruby says, picking herself up off the forest floor, dusting off the leaves. 

“Sit down, this is the place. I _feel_ it,” Sam says with his eyes wide and his hair wild. “I am a witch of ancient lore, I petition these trees and the forest floor.” Sam begins the incantation and the wind starts blowing through the trees, causing the branches to move. 

“Sam, what are you doing?” Ruby asks with her eyes narrowed in confusion, never having heard these words before. 

“I converge myself upon this site, spider weaving; power and might. Air and fire, water and earth, aid in my quest, I call you forth.” He invokes, his hands raised to the quickly darkening sky. 

“Baby, this is too much power at once.” Ruby warns, voice laced with fear. “I think you’ve had enough for today,” she says, laughing nervously. 

“I’ll have enough in a moment, Ruby. Aradia, Aradia, I intone, thrice the power you have shown. Open my spiral of strength and sorcery, my lord.” He says and the darkness in the late evening sky collects above their place in the woods, in the form of smoke and lightning. Ruby watches in awe as the dark cloud from above lowers toward them, Sam waiting with his open palms for it to be absorbed into his body. 

…

“So, can you feel him or something?” Dean asks, following closely behind Castielle as she stalks through the woods; scowl in place.

“Yes, I can fucking feel him. He’s radiating a lot of power, most of it light.” She says, slicing through a branch in her way with her sword.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Charlie asks, following behind them with Noelle by her side.

“It means that he, uhn,” she grunts, hacking through more fallen branches. “Has traces of dark magic, so we need to be careful.” She says, sighing deeply. 

“You won’t hurt him, right?” Dean asks, spinning her around by her shoulder. Her hair whips across her face, a snarl set there. 

“Don’t touch me! Not… not right now,” she says, lowering her eyes. “I just, I feel like a fucking fool. Ruby did this, right under my nose.” She says, continuing her search through the forest that has found itself on the coven’s property. 

…

“Pentacle of old, stones of deep, protection around; assistance I seek. Marry my veins to this earth, Cernunnos I summon you forth.” He says, the incantation flowing naturally from his lips into the world beyond their own. Suddenly, vines rise from the ground—wrapping around his wrists; binding him. 

“Sam! Baby—”

“Back off!” He screams at Ruby, stopping her in place. “Steele needles and pins, red blood of sins. Buried in the clandestine dusk, liquid Venus, the scent of musk.” He grunts, feeling the thorny vines tighten around his arms; causing him to bleed. 

“You can’t do this, just stop now!” She yells, genuine fear creeping up her back. He inclines his head—throwing her into a tree; pinning her there.

“Hear my words from moon to moon, cite the lord and lady’s rune. By the law of three times three, it is I alone, so mote it be!” He shouts to the sky and gasps, the chant instantly taking effect. More vines wrap around him, slowly encasing him in a cocoon of vines and magic. 

…

As Castielle and her group are walking through the forest, searching for Sam, she’s suddenly struck with a feeling and falls to her knees.

“Ah! God!” She screams, grabbing her head in her hands. Her head snaps upward. “I welcome thee into my world,” she whispers, eyes glowing. 

“Cas! Cas!” Dean yells, picking her up from under her arms; examining her. She looks at him, eyes lost; blank. She shakes her head gently, clearing it.

“He’s-he’s tapped into new power, we’re too late.” She says, walking unsteadily in the direction she’s compelled to go—to Sam. 

“Where are you going?” Dean asks and then Charlie bumps into him, and then Noelle and Adina bump into him too; following behind Castielle. They continue walking, feeling an aura of power grow stronger. Soon, they see Ruby bound to a tree; vines wrapped around her. And then… they see a nest of vines, with light glowing from inside. 

“There he is,” Charlie whispers, covering her mouth. “Elle, is he-he alright?” She asks and Noelle pulls Charlie to her, hugging her.

“He’s being reborn, into a higher place.” Noelle says, her voice in awe. And suddenly, the cocoon of vines bursts—revealing brilliant light. Sam comes out, in white loose silk robes; illuminating this all-consuming grace. 

“Oh, my god.” Castielle whispers, floating to him—drawn to him by the power they share. “You read the book,” she gasps, body going limp. 

…

Dean watches, confused. His lover floats away from him, compelled to-to his baby brother by magic or fate or whatever seems to have a grudge against him. They both look angelic, bathed in perfect otherworldly light. 

“Cas,” he whispers, now realizing he’s reaching out to her. Quickly, he pulls his hand away, wiping a tear from his eye. She drifts into Sam’s waiting arms, hugging him dearly. His worst fear doesn’t come true—they only hug, nothing more. Almost as if she’s seeing a loved one for the first time in ages, they hug like family—like they truly love and care for one another. 

“Get… away from him, bitch!” Ruby strains, catching everyone’s attention, coughing blood as the vines clearly get tighter—wounding her deeply. 

“Ruby?! Oh, my god—I’m so sorry!” Sam exclaims, no longer levitating with Castielle, he ruins the moment by running to that dog once more. Castielle looks hurt, confused, but she lets him go anyway. The vines cut into all of Ruby’s exposed skin—and then some, blood now dripping from rips in her leather jacket. The vines tear from her as Sam runs the short distance to her, catching Ruby in his arms when she falls forward. 

“What the hell is that bitch still—oh, fuck.” Charlie says, backing up with Noelle behind her— protective. And instantly, Noelle seems to sense it too.

“How did that thing get on the property?” She says slowly, looking panicked. “You said it was safe, Cas!” She yells, breathing heavily. Adina stares at Ruby for a moment and then her eyes go wide like saucers, and she runs behind Castielle for safety. 

“Jesus Christ,” she whispers, yet Cas seems to be able to keep her cool more so than the rest of them. He looks to Ruby, seeing the corner of her mouth slowly pull up into a devilish smirk—eyes flashing obsidian. He pulls his gun, aiming it at her quickly.

“You caught me, finally,” she says, cackling out a mirthless and bitter noise that somewhat resembles a laugh. 

“How did this happen or was-was it always like this?” Dean asks, looking to his baby brother for answers. Sam shrugs, smiling a bit.

“I don’t know, maybe her glamor wore off after entering the holy of holies,” he says, laughing loudly when Dean’s eyes go wide.

“You knew the whole time Sam, don’t be a prick about it.” Castielle says, voice full of hurt; eyes full of betrayal. 

“You were fucking a goddamn demon?!” Dean yells, stepping toward Sam threateningly. 

“That’s right, he was. And now, gang, without further ado—the new coven High Priest!” She yells, laughing at the surprised look on everyone’s face.

“But, I thought this was a ‘there can only be one’ type of deal.” Adina says. “Cassie?” She presses and Castielle just shrugs.

“I did too, I guess it’s not.” She says, lowering her eyes. “There’s a lot of things I thought were true, but I guess those were just lies as well.” She says bitter, dejected. Suddenly, she slaps Sam across the face, panting heavily.

“Fuck, you put some power behind that.” Sam says, laughing. Castielle scoffs, walking away. She struts away, making those heels work and then suddenly—blink—she's gone. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, why would you do this Sam?” He asks once everyone has begun walking away, back home. Sam shrugs, still smiling.

“I don’t know, I guess it doesn’t seem fair for her to have all that power. And me—I’m right for the job, I just know it.” He says, cackling, running off to catch up with Ruby.

“What is fucking happening to my life?” Dean says to himself, shaking his head as he follows the rest of the group back to the mansion. 

…

“So, he’s like equal to you?” Demetria asks, confused. Castielle shakes her head, sipping from a 2 liter Absolut bottle.

“No, he’s not. But now, because of the power boost, he poses a threat.” She explains, scoffing as she gulps down a more; savoring the burn. 

“Um, you might want to slow down, mate.” Thora says, watching her friend in concern. “It’ll go straight to your kidneys,” she presses and Castielle laughs.

“I’m a fucking High Priestess, I heal by sheer fucking will!” She shouts, screeching out laughter. Demetria shrugs, walking away with Thora following behind her. She finds herself alone, drinking and alone. Not a good sign, she’s like a fucking Winchester. 

“Jesus, drinking hard liquor in the evening Cas? Not smart, especially when we have hunting to do soon.” Dean says as he walks into the kitchen, smiling.

“Your enthusiasm sickens me,” she says, slurring her words a bit. “I thought you should know that,” she whispers, flipping him off. 

“Well, I see you’re an angry drunk, dutily noted—”

“Duly, goddamn it. It’s duly, not dutifully or whatever you said.” She corrects, stepping to him and stumbling; heels seeming higher than before. 

“Look, take it easy. Just… come sit down, please?” He asks, perfect green eyes pleading. Suddenly, she begins to laugh, smiling like a loon.

“You know, those green eyes are the first thing I remembered when I wanted to hunt your dumb ass down.” She says, snorting as she laughs. She stumbles over to him, breath ripe with the stench of alcohol. She takes another chug, only leaving a quarter of the bottle.

“You’re a fucking pro, I’d have died drinking it like that.” He says and she smiles, falling into his arms—Dean having to hold her up. He scoops her up, surprising her.

“Can we go lie down?” She whispers, blue eyes glossy and vulnerable. 

“Sure, Cas. Anything you want,” he complies, kissing her forehead.

…

Once they get to her bedroom, he lays her on her bed. Quickly, he strips off his jacket—lying down next to her warm and soft body.

“What was that, in the woods, with Sam?” He asks, feeling her breath against his skin, her face tucked into his neck.

“It-it was like… touching the body of an angel, feeling his soul—so pure, so f-fucking fresh. That little asshole, I trusted him.” She says, huffing.

“What’re we gonna do about the book?” He asks and she shoots upright in bed, manifesting the book in her hands.

“Elements protect this book, from all eyes, accept for thee and thine; keep it safe for it is mine.” She chants and magical energy swirls all around the book, encasing it in what becomes a transparent mystical lock. She causes the book to disappears, lying back down with her lover. She takes a swig from the bottle, finishing it.

“So, tell me something’s,” he says, smiling. “Tell me how you feel,” he says, running his fingers through her soft and curly hair; massaging her scalp—and she moans.

“Mm, well not I feel fucking great. But earlier, ha, I wanted to flay Ruby alive—make it last until it felt like forever before she died.” She says, giggling drunkenly. 

“Wow, not what I had in mind—”

“I took that fucking little Halfling into my home, with open arms and he betrayed me.” She slurs, fidgeting before he pulls her back to his chest; spooning.

“What, Ruby’s half-demon, half—”

“ _Sam_ , he’s the untrustworthy half-human, half-pond scum, and imp creature from hell.” She says angrily, tossing and turning until she buries her face in his neck—breathing deeply. When her breathing is even and loud, he discovers that she’s sleeping. 

“Halfling?” He whispers to himself, utterly confused. 

…

All of the girls are piled up in Charlie and Noelle’s room, snacking, doing hair, and gossiping— letting off steam and coming down from the high of Sam’s new found power. 

“So, Sam could be the new baddie.” Noelle says, gently running her fingers through Elysia’s hair— it still tingles with bits of electricity—both sitting on the bed.

“No way, dude! He’s a sweetheart but a black sheep—different, always breaking rules and shit, but not evil.” Charlie says from her spot next to Noelle, jumping to her friend’s defense. Demetria rolls her eyes, braiding her own hair in the mirror of the vanity. 

“I think he might be trouble, look what did to Ruby. And that was an accident,” she says, scoffing. Adina tears open the pack of Jolly Ranchers, tossing one to everybody from her spot in the beanbag chair by the vanity and then she opens her own cherry flavored one.   

“He is sweet, but he’s not very good. He doesn’t listen and all Castielle does is wish us the best, that’s it.” Adina says, shaking her head. Thora’s painting her toenails in the windowsill, long hair in girlie pigtails with pink stripes randomly strewn about.  

“Look ya, blokes, Cas isn’t a good caretaker. We came all the way from fucking London a while ago, but we just not discovered our powers.” Thora says, painting her toenails black.

“And your point is what exactly?” Noelle asks, huffing.

“Maybe we should all get a turn with that book, Ruby has a point—it’s for members of the craft, which means us.” She says, smiling mischievously.  

“Stop it with the dumb ideas, sissy, plotting like a fucking idiot. Cas wants to help us, it’s not her fault we took forever to present as-as whatever we are.” Elysia says, chiming in defensively, staring knives into her sister. 

“Screw you, I don’t even know why you care—you’re useless, bitch!” Thora yells, jumping from the windowsill, approaching her sister; antagonizing. 

“Look, you jealous cow, just give up! He doesn’t want you!” Elysia yells, shoving Thora in the shoulder—sparking energy between them.

“Shut up!” Thora screams, punching her sister in the mouth and nose—earning a head-butt in return; both of them drawing blood. 

“Stop it, both of you!” Charlie yells, raising her hands and separating them. “Heal,” she invokes, causing the twins’ injuries to disappear. 

“Bugger off, Red!” Thora yells, storming off—slamming the door behind her. 

“What is wrong with your fucking sister?” Noelle asks, scoffing. 

…

She’s pacing back and forth outside the bedroom, debating whether or not she should go back and apologize. Dean pops out of Castielle’s bedroom, slowly closing the door behind him. 

“Who slammed the damn door? Cas is sleeping,” he says, folding his arms. She mimics the position, leaning against the door. She shrugs, smiling. 

“I did, tired of those sodding morons—can’t truly think for themselves.” She says, scoffing and shaking her head. 

“What, is everyone talking about Sam?” He asks, confused. She nods, smiling. “He’s such an ass, I can’t believe he read from her book—”

“Her book? Are you shitting me? That book belongs to any witch—especially a good one,” she says, eyes heated.

“That book belongs to the coven’s High Priestess, meaning Cas!” He whisper-shouts, scoffing out a laugh.

“No, it really doesn’t. Besides, if that’s true, then it belongs to Sam now as well.” She says dismissively, walking away; hearing him follow behind her.

…

They arrive in the kitchen and she grabs some beers for the both of them—taking a seat on the kitchen counter. 

“Look, she’s a fucking control freak, mate. You know it, I know it.” Thora says, pink lips wrapping around the mouth of the green beer bottle.  

“Yeah, she demands a lot and sometimes she expects you to follow without question—but that’s a good thing from time to time.” He defends, sipping his beer. Thora just shrugs, smiling against the mouth of her bottle.

“She hasn’t failed us yet, I’ll give you that much.” She says, raising her bottle to him before taking another sip.

“What’s your deal with Cas, anyway?” He asks, folding his arms.

“Well, she’s a bit of a bitch—no offense, of course. And she’s so damn selfish with the magic, I swear, it’s like she thinks if she doesn’t have it all everything will go awry!” She gripes, flailing her arms about. 

“She’s in charge, she knows what’s best.” Dean says, attempting to walk away—only to be stopped by Thora’s small hand on his arm. 

“Don’t go, we don’t have to talk about this if you stay.” She says, cool breath on his neck. “I have better things in mind than talking,” she whispers, spinning him around to kiss him. At first, he doesn’t move—letting her do all the work of licking his lips, but then he grants her access. He kisses her deeply, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He picks her up, slamming her into a wall. Her thighs rest on his hips, arms around his neck.

“You better not say a fucking word,” he whispers harshly, attacking her mouth with his own. She moans sweetly, tasting him too.

“I won’t, baby, I promise.” She says, moaning as he licks her neck. 

…

As Sam meditates, he feels power course through his body quickly. Incantations and chants are basic instinct—he knows the right deities to call upon, what to say, whether or not the words should rhyme. Ruby is cleaning her wounds in his bathroom, keeping her distance. And she has every right, he hurt her badly. 

“I can heal you, okay? You know that, so let me, Ruby.” He says from his bed, legs folded. He hears her scoff before she steps out the bathroom, cuts now clean—all the blood just… gone.

“Why would I want your help? I told you to chill with all that magic, you didn’t listen.” She says, her hand on her hip.

“I’m sorry, Ruby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just lost in the sauce, it won’t happen again. Now sit, please.” He says, patting a place next to him on the bed. She nods, coming to sit down with him. He brushes her hair off her face, getting blood on his hands. 

“I don’t even understand how you hurt me without realizing it,” she says, lowering her eyes. Sam shrugs, continuing to stroke her hair.

“Let me fix it,” he says and she nods, closing her eyes. “Healing within, healing without. All health come in, all illness flee, by our will, so mote it be.” He whispers, kissing Ruby’s forehead. From his lips, a light glows, gracing her body and healing her quickly.

“Whoa, I uh, I feel great.” She says, grinning as she kisses him. He looks at her, surprised and then he buries his hands in her now clean hair—pulling her lips to his in a sensual kiss. 

“I want you,” he whispers, laying her back on the bed; draping his body over hers. She nods, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back. He grinds down against her, savoring the sweet friction between them. 

“You can have me, Sam, take me…” she whispers, kissing and biting his neck gently. “Let’s strip off your princely robes,” she says, giggling. She removes layers of soft silk and he unbuttons her jeans, both of them shedding their clothing. She’s wearing black boy-shorts that read ‘unlock me’, causing him to laugh. 

“If I’d have known there was an invitation, I’d have done this a lot sooner.” He says, pulling off her underwear. She chuckles a bit, pulling off his plaid boxers, throwing them across the room. Biting her lower lip, she strokes his impressive erection. 

“I am more than inviting you, Sammy, you’re an honorary guest.” She whispers, voice sultry, biting his earlobe. 

…

“When’re we going out to fight?” Demetria asks, pacing back and forth in the living room. Charlie shrugs, rearranging her feet in Noelle’s lap as they both read a book, both of them sharing the couch that seats three. 

“Maybe we can ask Castielle, once she gets up.” Noelle says, turning a page. “She won’t be drunk for long,” she says, sighing deeply.

“I’m high-strung, so sitting and waiting isn’t gonna work.” Demetria says, punching the air as she paces around the living room. Elysia’s in an armchair, playing with bits of lightning in the palm of her hand. 

“Same here, girls, I want to go kick some lad’s ass—let off a bit of steam.” She says, striking lightning into Charlie’s book—lighting it on fire.

“Jesus!” Charlie yells, throwing the book away from her. Elysia jumps up in her chair, outstretching her hand towards the book. 

“Um, Astrape, mend my mistake, replace that that I break.” She says and the fire is absorbed into her hand—forcing her backward. 

“Whoa, that was, um… intense, to say the least.” Noelle says after a beat, clapping as Elysia rests a hand on her chest; feeling her heart beat rapidly.  

“Jesus,” she whispers, panting, afraid of herself. 

…

“Oh, god fuck me, ya bloke!” Thora gasps, riding Dean hard as he fucks her into the wall. She’s gasping as he thrusts deep into her, squeezing her hips.

“You are too fucking tight, Jesus H.” He says, burying his face in her neck as he nears his climax— having already sent her over the edge. Soon after he comes down from the high, he lowers her to the floor; pulling out slowly. He takes off his condom, dumping it in the trash. She’s panting, barely able to stay on her feet.

“Dean, you are a fucking sex-champion. I love the way you move,” she says, running her fingers through her long and messy hair. He smirks, zipping his jeans up and buckling his belt.

“You weren’t too bad either, Thora.” He says, walking away, leaving her to stare at him in confusion. She leans against the wall, feeling as if she lost somehow. 

“Bugger me,” she whispers, thumping her head against the wall tiredly. 

…

“Ah, ah, there—yes!” Ruby yells, cumming hard and clenching tightly around Sam’s spent member. She gasps, back arching off the bed; gripping Sam’s hair firmly in her hands. He pants, resting his face on her breasts gently as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Fuck, you are a goddamn minx.” He whispers, kissing her neck as she giggles, smiling. He lies down next to her, pulling a blanket over them both.

“For a virgin, you were mighty impressive, Winchester.” She says and they both laugh breathlessly. 

“Thank you, kindly. Wow, I feel good. I-I think I want to take the girls out—go hunting! Yes, let’s go.” He says enthusiastically, jumping out of bed to grab his clothes. She sits up, confused and a bit wore out.

“You have too much energy,” she says, chuckling lightly. He shrugs, pulling on his jeans quickly and grabbing some converse from under his bed.

“I don’t know, maybe. I just wanna kick some ass,” he says, laughing happily as he heads out the room—fully dressed and ready to go. 

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, climbing out of bed slowly.

…

Sam goes from door to door and around the house, gathering up every girl. He even tried to get Cas, but she was in a drunken stupor. Noelle opted not to go, feeling as if he was betraying Castielle somehow. Everyone else had grabbed weapons, preparing to go into a witchy battle. Once they’re outside the property, he turns to face the group and make an announcement but Dean whispers to him before he can.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asks and Sam scoffs, laughing a bit.

“I’m more certain than ever, we’re both getting rusty fighting friends—we need to kick the ass of a real threat.” He says, clapping to catch everyone’s attention.

“Whatever,” Dean says to himself, rolling his neck a bit.  

“Alright gang, let’s touch hands and rock this motherfucker!” He shouts, everyone linking hands and arms—teleporting in a blink. 

…

Noelle watches from inside, scoffing when everyone disappears. She heads upstairs, checking on a still passed out Castielle.

“I feel like we need you right now, and you’re not fucking here, _boss_.” She says bitterly, shaking her head as she watches over her sleeping friend, seeing her toss and turn in an unconscious state. 

“We count on you, now they doubt you—and they have every right, you son of a bitch. Get up!” Noelle screams, shaking Castielle by the shoulders. Castielle mumbles incoherently, slowly opening her eyes—blinking rapidly.

“What-what-what’s going on, Elle?” She asks, squinting at Noelle. “Where is everyone? I don’t feel them anymore,” she says, sitting up tiredly.

“They left, off to do good—whatever the hell that even means,” Noelle answers, eyes downcast angrily. 

…

He took them to Ohio, a place he felt was good enough to hunt and was far enough from home that they could do it comfortably; not risking running into anyone familiar. 

“That bar, I feel so much… evil, ha! You know, I heard this place was favored by creatures of the night, let’s vanquish them!” He says wildly, laughing as he’s walking toward the bar. Dean’s on his left, Ruby’s on his right, and the rest of them are following behind. 

“What’s the plan, exactly?” Dean asks, holding the door open for some of the girls to go in. Sam shrugs, smiling. 

“Let’s just… massacre!” He says excitedly, waving his hand and manifesting a shotgun for his evil little henchwoman. Ruby cocks her shotgun and—BANG—she blasts a hole in the ceiling of the bar, catching everyone’s attention. 

“Everyone here who’s made of flesh and blood, get the fuck out!” Ruby shouts, cocking her 12gauge and firing it into the bar; shattering all the bottles on the top shelf. People run, screaming— but at least a dozen remain, snarling and throwing beer mugs onto the floor. 

“You scared off some good meals, bitch.” A man says, hopping off his stool and facing them. He’s scowling, angry. Sam shrugs, nonchalant.

“Well, two things. One, my girlfriend isn’t a bitch and two, those people aren’t your food.” He says, raising his hand and causing the man to levitate. 

“What… the fuck are you?” The man grunts, hands around his own throat as if he’s being choked.

“I think we’re gonna have some fun, what do you say girls?” Demetria says, cracking her knuckles. Elysia makes a few movements with her fingers, forming lightning in her palms.

“Oh, indeed,” she says, striking a demon in the chest; electrocuting him.  

…

“We need to get out of here and bring them home,” Castielle says, grabbing something from her closet. She chooses a form-fitting belted leather jumpsuit, it has a classic collar, long sleeves, and a zippered front.

“Then let’s go, I don’t really need to look like an Avenger.” Noelle says and they both share a laugh.  

…

Castielle chooses to take the newly remade Firebird, speeding off with Noelle in the passenger seat. She’s panicking, feeling as if she’s running out of time.

“Why did we bring the book if you’re driving?” Noelle asks, flipping through the pages quickly; searching for a spell—any spell. 

“I can still use it, Noelle. Bring it here please, I need to touch it.” She says and Noelle brings it within arm’s reach, so she rests a hand on it—electric energy passing over her eyes.

“Please be careful, you could kill us—”

“Elements new and old, let the truth the told; guide us to those lost and cold.” She chants and suddenly the car accelerates, out of her control.

“Looks like we’re gunning it to 88 miles per hour, huh Cas?” Noelle says, laughing. She holds onto the door, holding herself in place. They’re bolting down the road when suddenly, there’s a gathering of white mystical energy down the center of the highway. Castielle reaches for it with both hands, manipulating it. 

“Two faced god of gates and time, listen good and hear my rhyme; show us the way and bend the rules, for I use you as mine ancient tool.” She chants, gasping as the white energy in the road engulfs the car and then suddenly—it’s gone; taking the car with it. 

…

On the other side of the gateway, they arrive in a strange place—seeing a tavern with random bright lights flashing every few seconds. Screams can be heard, yet they don’t make a move.

“C-Cas, did we just travel through a fucking portal?” Noelle asks, breathing heavily with her hair strewn across her face. Castielle is panting, smiling happily.

“I didn’t think we’d make it, but we did it.” She says, laughing and sighing with relief. “Come on, we need to get in there.” She says, unbuckling her seatbelt and hopping out of the car. She manifests her sword, kicking down the door to the bar easily. She’s shocked to see what waits inside, eyes wide with worry.

…

One minute, he’s punching a vamp in the mouth, the next he sees a curly-hair Castielle—her mouth agape. She’s wearing an outfit that resembles the Black Widow; beautiful and fierce. She looks stunned and-and hurt, blue eyes pained. 

“STOP!” She shouts, raising her hands and freezing everything—save for her group of witches. They all appear shocked, dropping their weapons like toddlers who’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

“Cas, I’m glad you could join the party.” Sam says happily, punching a demon in the face. “What’s up?” He asks, placing his hands on his hips. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She says, looking around the wrecked bar in disgust. “Having fun, which is something these kids clearly need.” Ruby says, running a hand through her messy blonde hair.

“Yeah, we were only goofing around, boss.” Thora says, laughing a bit.

“This is not how we have fun!” Castielle yells, beheading a vampire with her sword. “There is no fun on the job, fun distracts.” She growls, doing an aerial flip and beheading another vampire. She lands in on one knee with a hand on the floor, looking up at her friends through her hair; breathing heavily. Ruby steps up, scoffing.

“You can’t persecute them for enjoying—”

“Shut up!” She yells, clenching her fist and causing Ruby to fall silent and collapse. “I don’t want any backtalk, everyone, except for the she-bitch, get outside!” She shouts and the room begins to shake. Slowly, her Wiccans file outside, obviously avoiding walking near her. Everyone leaves except for Ruby, Sam, and Dean.

“I’m not leaving unless you free her,” Sam says, folding his arms stubbornly. Castielle begins to laugh, a crescendo until she’s hunched over; guffawing. 

“Get the fuck outside, before I end you.” She says, wiping her eyes as she rises to her feet. The bar is still shaking, her power affecting everything in her vicinity. 

“Cas, don’t do this.” Dean says and she considers him for a moment, how the impending fight could affect him. 

“Go outside, Dean, you don’t need to see this.” Sam says, rubbing his palms together to form electric energy—causing her to raise her sword in preparation. She steps to Sam but Dean gets in between them, stopping them from harming each other.

“Please, both of you, let’s just go home.” Dean says, looking to Castielle with pleading green eyes. A beam falls from the ceiling, smashing the counter of the bar. She nods quickly, taking a deep breath. She releases Ruby and Sam must feel it, because he scoops up his girlfriend—running outside. Once they’re alone, Dean relaxes a bit, until more beams fall from the ceiling and the floor cracks—wooden pieces falling downward into nothingness. 

“Go outside, Dean,” she warns, feeling her control slip. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers through gritted teeth, pleading with her eyes. He nods, patting her on the shoulder before stepping outside. 

“AAAAAH!” She shrieks, causing the building to fall apart and spontaneously catch fire all at once. The walls go tumbling down, flames surrounding her. She stands in the middle of the chaos— untouched; unharmed.

…

Everyone’s outside, feeling that the ground hasn’t stopped shaking. Noelle starts making hand movements and gestures, closing her eyes.

“Janus, the father of time and gates, open your ears and change our state; open a place, open a space; open, open, open!” Noelle shouts, ripping a gate through time and space; causing mystical colors and energies to appear in the form of a portal. The wind is whipping from inside the portal, causing everyone’s hair to move about.

“Everyone!” She shouts, catching their attention. “This is the way home, one by one, get into the fucking portal and let’s go!” She yells, feeling the power of the portal train her magic greatly. And one by one, they all jump in, disappearing into the magical light. She steps one foot in, turning around to see the bar behind her in flames; still hearing Castielle’s screams of rage come from inside. Slowly, the building collapses, smoke rising, and in the flames… she sees Castielle, raising her hands to the sky—and suddenly there’s a lightning storm above.   

“Be safe, boss,” she whispers shakily, jumping into the portal.  

…

_“Why, why do I scream to the clear blue sky? I know it cannot answer my call, yet I throw tantrums to garner its attention until I'm worn down to the bone.” Meg says, panting as she watches her lover suffer in the flames of her own failure._

_“I yell, I fuss with the sky, knowing my calls aren’t something it stoops low enough to hear, to make time for. Yet, I scream until my vocal chords have grown tired and give out.” She says, crying as she beats her fists against the clear ground that separates her from her lover._

_“I scream until the thread of rhyme and reason that once weaved my sanity together can't bear it and it snaps. I can't help but scream, my instinct guides me to when my pure wrath has been ignored; it forces me to yell even louder.” She whispers, sobbing into her folded arms; watching Castielle succumb to her imminent failure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I wonder if anyone even reads these notes... *scratches chin* anyway, I have a certain direction I want the story to go in. I plan on having a few setups from the past pay off in the present and the future!
> 
> Castielle's outfit http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=209926889
> 
> Oh, I'd like to speak my mind a bit. So, I got super pissed when I saw that my crappily written smut got more attention in two weeks than this did in two months. I was almost ready to quit until my brother told me "People will always care more about the shit you don't put your heart into, so don't worry." He said, and that completely changed my mind. So, I'm writing this story for me.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, busy with my kids, dude. Anyway, oh my FUCKING god, that episode of TWD!! My husband, JMD, like seriously? Abraham AND Glenn?! NOOOOO!!
> 
> Sorry if I spoiled anything, but I couldn't help myself.

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/ill_watch_you_as_sleep/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=205779840)

When she’s finally done screaming, she’s panting breathlessly. Her leather jumpsuit has holes burned in it, yet she’s unharmed. The fire stopped going a long time ago, yet the lightning storm above hasn’t ceased. Sam betrayed her trust, multiple times. She steps through the rubble, going outside. She walks through the dark smoke, seeing that the sun is beginning to rise.

“Aperire ostium, Janus.” She says and slowly, the fabric of reality rips; opening a gateway for her to go home. She steps into it, the portal immediately closing behind her.

…

When she arrives home, she kicks the mansion doors open, sending them flying across the foyer floor in splinters.

“Everyone, get down her now!!” She screams at the top of her lungs, panting. Soon, she hears footsteps rushing toward her and she feels even angrier. Everyone runs downstairs, still in their pajamas and looking tired. 

“Cas, you’re okay,” Dean says, looking relieved. “Did you spend the night in the bar?” He asks and she snaps her fingers, ceiling his mouth and everyone else’s shut. 

“You all have _no_ excuse for going out with Sam, for breaking rules and for abusing your powers. I want you to know that _any_ other coven leader would strip you of your magic.” She says, looking at everyone with pain and disappointment in her tired eyes. But most of all, fury. They all shake their heads, pleading with their eyes and shaking their hands at her and pulling at their mouths. 

“Unlike traditional coven leaders… I’ll let you all off with a warning, one and only one get out of jail free card. What I give I can and will take away,” she says, waving her hand and releasing everyone from their state of muteness. 

“You can’t fucking dictate us, mate,” Thora says, stepping up to Castielle. “If we want to have fun, why the hell can’t we?” She asks, narrowing her eyes and clenching her fists by her sides. 

“This isn’t a goddamn discussion,” Castielle says, breathing heavily. “You do what I tell you when I tell you to do it.” She says, scoffing.

“I think we should have the freedom to do what we want,” Aurora says, stepping out from behind Demetria. She raises her chin stubbornly. 

“Well, I don’t give a sh—”

“Maybe you should hear them out, give them a chance to tell you how they feel,” Sam says, examining his nails. 

“When it comes to leaving the safety of this coven, there _is_ no discussion!” She shouts, panting as she looks at the varying faces of her students. Some seem upset, others passive. 

“You don’t get to tell us—”

“Just shut the fuck up and be grateful you have someone who houses you, feeds you, clothes you, and gives a rat's ass about you.” Dean says, arms folded. She nods her appreciation to him, he salutes her with two fingers. 

“I-I can’t deal with this right now; I’m going to bed.” She says, heading up the stairs. “Remember, you all have one warning!” She shouts, going to her bedroom. 

**_Later That Night…_ **

The sky is still a color palette of blue, purple, and red as he’s lying in bed, tossing and turning; sweating profusely. He pulls the blankets up to his neck, attempting to beat back the cold even though he’s overheated. He mumbles incoherently in his sleep, clawing at the air. His body is transitioning—from solid to transparent and back, him becoming corporeal and incorporeal unintentionally; struggling within his dreams. 

…

_He’s in an empty field, fog is surrounding him; obscuring his sight. Everything around him feels… surreal, like he’s not really here yet he knows he definitely is._

_“Oh, my goodness; look how you’ve grown!” A woman exclaims and he spins around to see a blonde woman appear from the fog. Her hair is curly, shaping her face beautifully. She has two large wings behind her, white with bits of pink spread about._

_“_ _Who the hell are you?” He asks, stepping up to her. She’s wearing a beautiful halter gown, with lovely jewelry that compliments her features. She only smiles, looking at him with patience. She seems to have a transparent glow around her, appearing like a fay creature; like an angel, honestly._

_“I understand why you don’t remember me, you were just a baby when I last saw you… kissed you goodnight,” she says, whispering the last part._

_“Kissed me good… mom?” He whispers, feeling as if all his emotions suddenly strike him at once— none of them pleasant._

_“That’s right, Sammy, it’s me.” She says, smiling softly. “Come here,” she sighs, pulling him into a tight hug. He sighs once he has her arms wrapped around him and vice versa, finally feeling content and balanced. They fall to their knees, his arms around her waist and her arms around his shoulders._

_“Why here? I mean, w-where is here?” He asks, feeling tears form in his eyes. She runs her fingers through his hair, every touch feeling like heaven._

_“Because you’re lost Sammy, you are so very lost and you have fallen very far from where you were going.” She explains a bit cryptically, and he feels even more confused._

_“Did-did I die? Am I in purgatory or something?” He asks, feeling his tears spill over and down his cheeks._

_“No, no baby boy. This is just a plane that’s easiest to reach you on, okay? Now, I don’t feel like we have much time, so I’ll make this quick. You heard about Morgana but did nothing to learn more, you were on the road to fixing your father when you got side-swiped—you and Dean need to focus.” She says, wiping away his tears with her thumbs._

_“But, I don’t even remember—”_

_“Your father, he needs you. You and Dean went on this quest to fix him and you didn’t, not yet._

_You’re powerful enough to fix him, so do it!” She says, picking them up, straightening his clothing._

_“Mom, I can’t do that… he’ll find out about Ruby and he’ll—”_

_“Blood is thicker than water, Sam. Fix him, please, I’d do it myself but obviously, I can’t.” She says, lowering her eyes. Mary interlocks her fingers with Sam’s, kissing his knuckles._

_“I-I-I’ll do it, mom. I’ll fix him, but if he makes Ruby leave I’m coming back here to bitch about it.” He says, smiling a bit. She laughs, smiling brightly. And suddenly, she begins to fade, but she’s still smiling._

_“Remember to look up Morgana, stop her before it’s too late. I love you…” she says, voice echoing while it fades._

… 

He shoots upright in bed, panting and sweating.

“I love you too,” he whispers, looking around; confused. Ruby sits up too, running her fingers through her messy hair, waking up angry.

“What the fuck, Winchester. Quietly have nightmares, some of us need beauty sleep.” She complains, scowling at him for a moment before taking in his demeanor and worrying immediately.

“Ruby, what can you tell me about Morgana? Morgana Le Fay?” He asks, taking in the shocked look on her face apprehensively. 

…

“Dean, what the _fuck_ is wrong with your brother? I can feel him from here,” Castielle groans, kicking Dean in the shin to wake him up.

“What? What do you feel?” He asks tiredly, wrapping his arm around her midsection tightly; cuddling with her.

“His aura, it’s not good. Like he’s having a nightmare or something,” she mumbles, eyes still shut tight; holding onto what’s left of her sleep. 

“Okay, what do you want me to do about it?” He asks and she pulls the blankets off him, kicking him onto the floor quickly. He shivers a bit, feeling the cold bite at his skin. He sighs deeply, pulling himself to his feet. Dean heads out into the hallway, knocking on his brother’s door.

…

Suddenly he hears a knock, his head snaps over to the door quickly—bursting the bulb in his lamp by accident. Ruby gets up angrily, nearly tearing the door off its hinges when she opens it.

“What?!” She shouts, scowling at Dean. He scoffs, pushing past her. 

“Sam, what’s going on in here? Cas can feel your aura and—what? Why’s it dark in here?” He asks abruptly, finally focusing on his surroundings.  

“Mom, okay? I saw mom,” Sam whispers, wrapping his arms around his knees. He runs his fingers through his hair, breathing quickly.

“What do you mean you saw her? Was-was she here?” Dean asks hopefully, sitting down next to his brother. Sam shakes his head, and he lowers his own subtly in disappointment. 

“It was in my dream, I’m really powered up and she was able to reach me.” He explains, grateful for his gift.

“What did she say? Did she ask about me?” Dean asks.

“Um, no, but I can tell she watches us all the time. She’s watched us grow, seen us go through everything.” He says and Dean smiles, looking up at the ceiling curiously.

“That’s awesome, but she didn’t say hi for the first time in sixteen years for nothing.” Dean presses and Sam sighs deeply.

“We forgot about dad, we forgot to fix him. She asked me to, not like as a favor but more like-like begging.” He says, lowering his eyes.

“Don’t forget, she mentioned Morgana too—basically her last words.” Ruby says, leaning against the door frame with folded arms.

“Who’s Morgana—wait, Morgana Le Fay, oh my god.” Dean whispers, standing up suddenly. “The reason we even came here,” he says, stepping out of the room. He goes back to Castielle’s room, finding her waiting; the Book of Shadows in her lap.

“I know what you’re going to bitch about, so spare me.” She says, opening the book. “You need info, I’ve got it.” She assures him, turning the pages.

“Were you eavesdropping?” He asks, sitting down on her bed. 

“Yes, but you're also a bit predictable.” She says, smiling gently. “Let’s see… ah—here she is, Morgana Le Fay of Arthurian Legend. Ooh, she’s quite the badass. She takes what she wants, kills who she wants.” Castielle says, rolling her eyes. 

“Charlie, Sam, get in here!” Dean yells loudly and Sam comes immediately and a few minutes later, Charlie and Noelle show up too, bundled up in blankets.

“What do you want? It’s like five in the fucking morning,” Noelle says, eyes barely open. “Why’s the book open?” She asks, confused.

“Sammy here had a chat with our mother, she reminded him about Morgana Le Fay,” Dean explains, climbing back in the bed and under the covers with Castielle. 

“But Dean, your mom is… you know, dead.” Charlie says gently, looking around the room a bit awkwardly to avoid eye contact.

“I saw her in my dream, she reminded me that we need to fix dad and research Morgana,” he explains, running a hand through his already messy hair. 

“About Morgana Le Fay, she seems like the copycat killer type. There’s a woman, Morrigan, a goddess in Celtic mythology. She’s the goddess of war, revenge, night, magic and prophecy; Queen of Fairies and Witches.” Castielle reads, her blue eyes narrowed.

“Okay, so how is Morgana a copycat killer?” Sam asks, confused.

“Well, it says here that Morrigan is a notorious antihero—she’s killed countless and I guess Morgana wanted to follow in her stead because she did the same.” Castielle says, shrugging.

“Okay, and your friend died from just thinking about her, right Charlie?” Dean asks, arms folded and Charlie nods.

“She seemed like she was there—back in the heat of the moment with Morgana, and then she died.” Charlie says, lowering her eyes. Noelle wraps an arm around Charlie's shoulders, pulling her close.

“Keep reading about Morgana, please.” Sam grunts, his eyes shut tight.

“Um, back in the 6th century, she was slain by a noble knight. Instead of putting her body in a tomb, they… burned her. After that, they dumped her ashes in a river.” Castielle says, scoffing as she closes the book.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks, a bit confused.

“Nothing, just the fact that those imbeciles handled a powerful witch’s remains poorly. Keep that shit in an urn—a blessed one.” She says, shaking her head. Dean shakes his head, throwing an arm around her and pulling her close. 

“They didn’t know any better, hell, I didn’t even think of that.” Dean says, laughing. 

“So, we've researched Morgana. what's next on the roster?" Noelle asks, resting her head on Charlie's shoulder. 

“Dad, we need to go get him.” Sam says, running a hand through hair again. “Teleporting takes a lot out of me—”

“Portal, I’ll make a portal!” Noelle says, smiling excitedly. 

“No, baby, not again. You passed out last time, I’m not letting it happen again.” Charlie says, shaking her head.

“I’ll do it,” Castielle says, sitting up in her bed. “When do you guys want to head out?” She asks and Dean smiles, surprised.

“Um, we should tell the girls, so maybe about… 7:30?” He asks, unsure. Everyone approves, unanimous. 

“Alright, glad we can agree—now get the hell out so I can sleep.” Castielle says, causing them to laugh a bit as they head out, Sam lingering a bit.

“Thank you, Cas. This means a lot to me,” Sam says and she nods silently. Sam leaves, closing the door behind himself. 

“When are you gonna forgive him?” Dean asks, spooning with her once more. She pulls the blanket up to their shoulders, getting comfortable. After a beat, she has an honest answer.

“Probably never,” she says, sighing deeply. “He turned some of the girl’s against me, I just know it.” She says, closing her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, they’ll realize who really has their best interest in mind.” He says, burying his face in her neck; smelling her. 

…

A couple hours later, everyone meets in the kitchen, some of them perched on counter-tops, others sitting on the barstools at the island counter. It’s early, everyone’s a bit on edge because of the coming events. Castielle feels nervous too, but that’s because she wants to make a good impression on the rest of Dean’s family. She’s wearing a 3-piece suit consisting of a white blouse, a tailored blazer with matching dress pants, suede chunky heeled ankle boots, and the beige trench coat Dean bought her. She’s pacing in the kitchen as she makes her announcement. 

“Alright guys, um, some crazy things are gonna happen when we open this portal.” Castielle says, running a hand through her messy hair. 

“What do you think will happen?” Demetria asks, pulling her box braid extensions into a ponytail. She shrugs, smiling tiredly.

“This is Sam and Dean’s uncle, he’s a hunter, and we’re witches—so let’s hope for the best and… use your magic for the worst.” She says, nodding to her group. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? Bobby’s a nice guy and all, but it took him a while to accept me and my witchcraft.” Charlie says, worried. 

“Oh, god, he could shoot us on sight!” Adina says, eyes wide with fear. 

“Let’s just do what we can, it’s one hunter versus seven witches—we’ll be fine.” Noelle says confidently, folding her arms across her chest. 

“Are you sure you can do this Castielle?” Dean asks, unsure. “Maybe Sam should help you,” he proposes and she scoffs.

“I did it this morning, I can do it now. Don’t worry, I’ll get your father back. Promise,” she says, walking closer to the kitchen sink and further from her friends and family. Her mother and siblings are watching as well, hopeful. 

“Be careful, Cassie.” Anna says, waving to her big sister. Castielle smiles, waving back. She outstretches her hands, closing her eyes.

“Two faced god of gates and time, listen good and hear my rhyme; show us the way and bend the rules, for I use you as mine ancient tool.” She chants, saying her incantation by memory. She feels her magic being used to tear the seam that separates realities and dimensions—opening a portal. This one is clearer, allowing everyone to see into a dirty kitchen. They can hear sounds from the other side of the portal, boots hitting a hardwood floor. 

“Let’s go,” she says to Sam and Dean, sighing deeply as she eases the portal open a bit wider. The brothers go inside, Ruby following after them, and Castielle steps in last—the portal immediately shutting behind her. 

…

She feels proud of herself, having successfully entered through yet another portal. Smiling, she looks around, taking in her surroundings. 

“Um, where are we?” Ruby whispers, seeing that Sam and Dean are looking around with a nostalgic admiration.

“This is Uncle Bobby’s—”

“How the hell did you get in my house?!” Bobby screams, firing off a shotgun. In the blink of an eye with supernatural speed, Castielle jumps in front of the boys with her hands up; freezing the bullets in the air. Panting, she lets the bullets drop to the floor one by one.

“Is this how you always greet your nephews?” Castielle says angrily, breathing heavily. 

“What the—oh my god, Dean? Sam? Boys!” Bobby yells, pushing past her absentmindedly to pull them into a tight hug. 

“Hey, Uncle Bobby.” Dean says, smiling a bit shyly. 

“God, you’ve both grown. Especially you Sam,” Bobby says, rubbing their shoulders. 

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Sam says, laughing a little. Bobby looks at them with wonder in his eyes, with an abundance of love. Eventually, Bobby turns around to take notice of her, an annoyed look on his aged face.

“Who’s the dork in the trench coat?” He asks, scoffing. She rolls her eyes, outstretching her hand.

“I’m Castielle Novak, it's a pleasure to meet you.” She says, smiling tightly. He shakes her hand politely, yet apprehensively. 

“And I’m Ruby,” she says, knocking Castielle’s hand out the way to shake Bobby’s as well; smiling… seductively.  

“Care to explain that Matrix shit with the bullets?” Bobby asks, folding his arms. Dean rubs the back of his neck, nervous. 

“Well, Cas is kinda—”

“I’m a witch,” she says, cutting to the point quickly. Bobby looks shocked, slowly distancing himself from her. 

“Way to ease him into it, Cas.” Dean says, sighing deeply.

“What? You weren’t gonna say it anytime soon,” she says, folding her arms. Suddenly, Bobby throws a flask full of holy water on her—which has no effect. Ruby screams, though, falling to the floor as her skin sizzles; steaming. 

“Holy hell,” Bobby whispers, covering his mouth. He backs away from Ruby, running into the kitchen counter; trapping himself. 

“Bobby, wait!” Sam says, but Bobby flings a silver knife at her—Sam reaches for it—stopping it midair. Sam stays frozen there, knife still in the air, breathing heavily. Bobby looks at him in shock, eyes wide. Slowly, Sam floats the knife over to himself, resting it on the kitchen table. 

“What the fuck?” Ruby pants, looking to Sam helplessly. “You didn’t tell him?!” She shouts, scowling.

“You told me you found someone, yet you hid that she’s a witch and that Sam is dating a goddamn _demon_. Are you out of your minds?!” Bobby yells, shaking his head. “What the hell’s going on with you boys?!” He shouts, breathing heavily. 

“I knew you weren’t ready to hear about it, s-so I hid it from you. I’m sorry,” Dean says, lowering his eyes. 

“Let’s all sit down and chat, shall we?” Castielle asks, hopeful. 

…

“So, let me get this straight. You killed her girlfriend, causing her to sleep with you and realize that she’s a higher being. And Sam, after being tortured by Castielle and finding his own powers, also realized that he’s a higher being?” Bobby asks, confused as all hell. They’re all in the living room, Bobby in his recliner and the four of them on the couch. 

“Dean killed my girlfriend, I tried to kill them, he cursed me, I survived the hellish emotions of being in a state of grief. For a witch—”

“I know, grief can damn near kill one of ya. I’m aware,” Bobby says, nodding and waving for her to go on.

“Well, my mother read a prophecy. In this prophecy, I discovered that I’m a High Priestess. A few goddesses confirmed that for me,” she says, nodding. “I don’t know where this all leads, but Sam is now a High Priest—we are both at the pinnacle of witchcraft. He recently came into his power, rather quickly too.” She says, looking at Sam crossly.

 _“Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”_ He asks telepathically and she rolls her eyes, huffing quietly.

 _“You know why, now tell him about your little chat from this morning!”_ She shouts telepathically, causing him to grab the side of his head. 

“Jesus, alright! Look, Uncle Bobby, I-I saw my mother in a dream. It was the only place she could reach me, she reminded me to fix dad and to look up Morgana Le Fay.” Sam says, his nostrils flared. 

“Um, okay, that’s really strange. Sam, I never pictured this for you. Yet here you are. Look your fathers upstairs. I’m sorry—I-I can’t deal with this.” Bobby says, standing up and leaving the room.

“That went well,” Ruby says, folding her arms. “Look, I’m leaving for a little while—I’ll see ya.” She says, standing up and in a blink—she disappears. 

“I love how she sticks with you when the going gets tough,” Dean says, shaking his head. Sam sighs, rising to his feet.

“Let’s just go fix dad,” he says, walking away. Dean tries to follow, but Castielle catches him by his arm. Quickly, she pulls him into a hug. He wraps his arms around her instantaneously, crushing her body to his own. He smells her hair, feels her warmth and suddenly—he feels like everything is gonna be alright. He smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“I-I need you, Cas.” He says, looking down at her shyly. She looks up at him through her dark lashes, feeling and understanding what he feels. 

“I need you too,” she whispers, resting a hand on his cheek which his rough with stubble. “Now go and fix your father,” she says, smiling. He nods, walking away to follow after Sam. Sighing, she feels somewhat helpless. Needing the person she feels so conflicted about, she shakes her head. She decides to go see Bobby, hoping to ease his mind.

…

She finds him in a junkyard of cars, some rusty and missing parts, others in the process of being fixed and appearing salvageable. Gravel getting crunched under her boots, most likely alerting him of her presence. 

“So, I’m sure this is all very shocking to you. Discovering that your boys are almost completely different people,” she says, putting her hands in her coat pockets, feeling the cool breeze of fall nip at her a bit. 

“Yeah, what Sam’s become is kinda damn horrifying.” He says, shrugging. He has a beer can in his hand, sipping from it every few seconds.

“You view him as something you hunt, don’t you?” She asks and he turns around, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

“That’s none of your damn business,” he says, scoffing. 

“I’m just curious, being polite and asking instead of being nosey and reading your aura.” She says, throwing the bait out there.

“You can read auras? That gives people away a lot, doesn’t it?” He asks, laughing a bit. She laughs a little too, nodding.

“It really does because it’s obvious when they’re bluffing,” she says, smiling. 

“Heh, that’s cool. Hey, um, do you want to read mine?” He asks and she smiles softly, nodding her head.

“I’d be glad to,” she says, beckoning him over. “This is the more… cliché way of doing it, but give me your hand.” She instructs and when Bobby opens his palm, she lays hers on top. Soon, she can see transparent colors around his body. There are a few different colors, a light shade of red, a bit of orange, but the majority is blue and pink. Slowly, she smiles.

“What? What do you see?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“You really love those boys, its beautiful Bobby. I hope that with time, you’ll accept me.” She says, releasing his hand. His aura fades, going from transparent to its natural state of invisibility. 

“I’d have to accept Sam long before I accept you,” he says, chuckling. She laughs, heading back his house, shaking her head.

“Come on, you’re gonna miss out on Sam using his powers for good.” She says and after a beat, she hears him following after her. 

…

Inside, the boys see their father resting. He looks good, a bit thinner than last time they saw him, but good nonetheless. 

“How do you want to do this, dude?” Dean asks, whispering. Sam shrugs, unsure.

“I don’t know, maybe I can heal him with an incantation.” He proposes, still deciding on the magical route he wants to take.

“You should  do a reversal spell and then a healing spell,” Castielle says, causing them to spin around quickly—shocked.  Bobby and Castielle are standing by the bedroom door, waiting.

“I didn’t think you’d come in,” Dean says, a soft smile gracing his lips. She shrugs, folding her arms.

“I figured Sam would need my help,” she says, shrugging. “Anyway, we need the book.” She says, snapping her fingers and causing the Book of Shadows to appear on the dresser behind them; surrounded by ritual candles.

“Alright, let’s get started.” Sam says, smiling a bit. “Do you wanna light the candles?” He asks, looking at Castielle. She nods silently, manifesting a black lighter with stars and half-moons on it. One by one, she lights all seven candles.

“Um, I’ll find the spell for this.” She says, looking through the book. Closing her eyes, she whispers to the book quietly. Bobby watches, beer in hand. Coming over to Dean, he speaks in a hushed tone.

“Does she always do that?” He asks and Dean chuckles a little, smiling.

“When she does a spell, yeah. Cas is… special, with the way she does magic Bobby, it’s like she becomes it. It’s so—”

“Freaky?” Bobby asks, sipping his beer. “I’d think it would be weird, I mean she’s a witch and you’re a hunter. It’s like goddamn Shakespeare,” Bobby says, scoffing.

“Yeah, but with more blood and hatred.” Dean says, shaking his head. “I don’t know how she’s doing this but—”

“I found the spell and the incantation!” Castielle announces excitedly, beckoning Sam over to the ritual table.

“Says we need coriander, garlic cloves, blueberries, anise, and sage.” She says, snapping her fingers and manifesting the ingredients as well as a pestle and mortar. Castielle crushes up the ingredients, looking from the book to her mixture.

“So, how experienced are you at these kinds of things?” Bobby asks, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been doing spells since I was five, I’m pretty great. Considering I raised my bunny from the dead at eight, I’m fucking amazing.” She says, sprinkling the ingredients on each candle flame.

“Wow, I-I’m impressed.” Bobby says, laughing a bit. Suddenly, the flames shoot to the ceiling in a quick and hot blaze.

“Jesus!” Dean yells, ducking. Sam and Bobby follow suit, but Castielle remains standing. “What the hell, Cas?” Dean asks, looking around with wide eyes.

“By the moon, the stars, and the sun, by the God and Goddess and ancient ones. Blessed be this altar and all here on; good for all and harming none.” She says, hand resting above the candle flames; calming the fire.    

“It’s time,” Sam says, body moving loosely as he walks to their homemade ritual altar. “All things lost, all things with worth, Bacchus lift your spell and return the mirth; lift your spell and fix this curse.” He chants, one hand resting on the Book of Shadows and the other stretched toward his father. Suddenly, John shoots up in bed, gasping and grabbing his chest. Castielle grabs hold of Sam’s free hand, touching John’s foot quickly.

“Around the circle, throughout and about, healing within; healing without. All health come in, all illness flee, by our will; so mote it be!” Castielle yells, her head snapping to the ceiling—eyes glowing white. Slowly, her eyes fill with electric energy. Sam’s skin begins to glow and underneath it, lightning looks like it’s flashing.

“AHH!” Sam yells, mouth agape. His head twitches and his body shakes, power transferring from him through Castielle to heal his father. Bobby and Dean watch from across the room, witnessing such wonderful and frightening magic. And just as suddenly as it started, it stops—Sam falling to the floor. Castielle is panting, hair a wild mess.

“What the hell is she doing here?!” John screams, jumping out of bed and launching at an unsuspecting Castielle.

…

Thora is in her and her sister’s room, choosing some clothes from her drawer. She sees a few plaid miniskirts, some tight crop tops. She decides to go with a simple look, putting on a red ribbed camisole crop vest, a tribal ribbon-print maxi skirt, and cognac colored cutout booties. She smiles, pulling her hair into a ponytail. Tonight, she’s gonna go out and explore. Raising her pillow, she pulls out a long and curved dagger. It’s silver, engraved with symbols and lines. Her hand suddenly start turning black again, mouth sliding into a smile.

“Get ready for me demons, I’m coming for you.” She says, laughing lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked the chapter, I'm adding Bobby to get some humor going. I need a positive comic relief, some serious shit is gonna happen. 
> 
> Mary - http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=210295024  
> Castielle - http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_647/set?id=207718463  
> Thora - http://www.polyvore.com/untitled_613/set?id=207243327


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is late as all hell. But I have an excuse, I've been helping my sister move into a new house while also babysitting her kids ANDI just started gymnastics AND I want juice AND I know you know I want it now!! 
> 
> Anyway, lol, enjoy!

[ ](http://www.polyvore.com/from_dark_into_your_light/set?.embedder=18733414&.svc=copypaste&id=210840764)

“Dad, stop!” Dean yells, reaching for his father. But he’s too slow, unable to stop his father from wrapping his large hands around Castielle's fragile neck.

“Please, don’t.” Castielle strains, pulling on the hands around her neck that are crushing her windpipe and cutting off her air supply. John’s eyes are full of hate, and he looks satisfied as he slowly kills her.

“Let her go!” Bobby yells, pulling on John’s shoulder. Bobby and Dean are trying to pull him off and so John hauls off and punches Dean in the face, and she loses her patience. Pulling her legs up, she wraps them around John’s neck, pulling herself up and using the momentum to throw him on his back while trapping his arm.  

“You don’t get to fucking hurt him,” she says, panting. “And you sure as hell don’t get to hurt me, not again.” She rasps, tightening her knees to apply pressure to his arm; causing him great pain.

“What the hell, Dean? Why…is she alive?” John grunts, hurt. “What happened?!” He roars, throwing her off him and into the dresser they used as an altar. Dean and Bobby are speechless, so she quickly rises to her feet; stepping up to the plate.

“That night you killed my girlfriend, I cursed you. You’ve been like Forrest Gump for a while now,” she says, smirking in delight.

“I’ve kept you here for much of the time,” Bobby says, lowering his eyes. “We thought it was best,” he says, sighing deeply.

“You lost your memory, dad, you were kinda like a child.” Dean rushes to say as if it’s an excuse.

“How long has it been since you cursed me?” He asks, looking at Castielle. She shrugs, nonchalant.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I believe it’s been about four maybe five months since this all started, it’s late October now.” She says, folding her arms.

“I-I don’t remember it all very well, but it was spring or maybe summer the last time I checked,” John says; scoffing.

“Well, you haven’t been yourself. Not really,” Dean says, putting his hand in his pockets. Suddenly, Ruby walks in, frowning when she sees Sam on the floor. John is just now seeing an unconscious Sam as well, confused.

“What happened?!” She says, rolling Sam on his back. She looks up at them, scowling. “What. _Happened?_ ” She growls, eyes flashing onyx.

…

“John, leave her alone!” Bobby shouts, watching John grab Ruby by her jacket collar; striking her in the face. Castielle debates whether she should step in, considering she hates Ruby. Well, the girl has superhuman strength, she can help herself.

“STOP!” Sam shouts, grabbing John by the wrist; successfully stopping him from punching Ruby in her already bloody mouth and nose. Sam is standing nearly as tall as his father, scowl set in place. He roughly lowers John’s hand, takes Ruby and hugs her to his chest.

“What the hell do you call yourself doing?” John spits, folding his arms. “You're protecting that bitch?” He asks, scoffing.

“No, I’m protecting my _girlfriend_.” Sam snaps through gritted teeth, looking a fearful Ruby in the eyes. She pulls away from him, straightening her leather jacket. Raising her chin, she sits in rest bitchface. 

“Your family fucking sucks,” she says, stomping off; chunky heels pounding against the hardwood floor as she bolts out of the room.

“Girlfriend?” John says breathlessly, eyes narrowed. Sam nods once, folding his arms and standing tall.

“Yeah, but that’s not all. I’m a Wiccan now, and this morning, I saw mom in a dream.” Sam says, smiling. John scoffs before his eyes go wide, disbelieving.

“Um, Dean, Bobby, we should give them some space.” Castielle says, grabbing Dean by his hand. John looks at their interlocked fingers and then their faces, scoffing. He can feel another rage building, but he hides it behind a tight smile. 

“No, Dean should stay. He’s got some explaining to do, as well.” He says, sighing deeply. Bobby takes a seat on the bed, staying. She shrugs, walking away.

…

She finds Ruby in the bathroom, wiping away the blood with a wet washcloth. She looks up at Castielle through blonde hair, smiling.

“What, came to watch the show?” Ruby asks, looking at herself in the mirror. She leans against the bathroom doorframe, shaking her head.

“I came to see if you were alright,” she says, folding her arms. “Even if you deserve it,” she says, lowering her eyes.

“Why do _I_ deserve _this?_ ” Ruby asks, pointing to her black eye, scoffing.

“You should have used your demon-strength,” she says, taking a seat on the side of the tub. “Why didn’t you?” She asks, confused. Ruby closes the toilet lid, also sitting down.

“Because I would’ve hurt him—a lot.” She says, crossing her legs. “Sam’s father needs to trust me; I need him to trust me.” Ruby says, lowering her eyes.

“And why’s that?” She asks, doubtful.

“If he doesn’t trust me, Sam and I won’t ever be happy.” She answers, sighing deeply. “I’m sure you want to impress big daddy, too.” She says and Castielle looks away, feeling a bit embarrassed—ashamed, really.

…

“Don’t drag Mary into this, you sunuva bitch!” John spits hatefully, bearing down on Sam menacingly.

“I had no intention of fixing you, not until this morning.” Sam says, angry. “She asked me in such a way… I had to,” he says, lowering his eyes.

“Dean, did you know about this?” John asks, helpless. Dean lowers his eyes too, nodding. “You boys have a lot of explaining to do,” he says, shaking his head.

“That’s what we came here for, to fix you and-and to tell you about the new changes.” Dean says, sighing stressfully.

“We stay at a coven now, with several other Wiccans that Castielle helped.” Sam says, deciding to just rip off the Band-Aid.

“So, you’re not only sleeping with the enemy, but you’re living with em too?” John asks, his voice heated.

“They went there to learn about a prophecy, I promised them some ancient books—we kinda got sidetracked.” Castielle says, suddenly appearing on the bed; shocking everyone.

“What ancient books and what damn prophecy?” John asks, looking at her hatefully.

“The one where a High Priestess, meaning me, saves the world from Armageddon.” She says, folding her arms.

“You’re a High Priestess?” John asks, raising a brow.

“Yes, the most powerful one currently. Sam is a High Priest, capable of possessing magic energy beyond reason.” She says, giving Sam a bit of a dirty look.

“I think I used all the energy I have to fix you, dad. I feel tapped out,” Sam says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“He went behind Castielle back, using the Book of Shadows without—”

“ _You_ have the book?” John asks, eyes wide. Castielle nods, climbing out of the bed.

“It belongs to me until another High Priestess arises,” She says, smiling. “If Sam didn’t abuse my trust, you would still be a bit… slow,” she says, addressing John.

“Well, I-I would say I appreciate this, but I don’t accept you Sam—I can’t.” John says, lowering his eyes; ashamed.

“What? Why not?” Sam asks, hurt.

“Because, I have a history with witches and warlocks and-and we just don’t mix well.” John says, walking away. Sam’s eyes are wet, catching Castielle’s attention.

“John, please don’t let past offenses hinder your relationship with Sam. Before Ruby came around, he was a brilliant Wiccan.” Castielle says, stopping John in his tracks.

“Yeah, dad, he has so much potential. Don’t go before at least seeing our new way of life,” Dean says, causing his father to turn around.

“Fine, I have a test for you. If you can still hunt with other hunters without turning on them, I’ll think about accepting… this.” John says, looking Sam in his hazel eyes.

“I-I can, dad, I swear.” He says, his voice a bit nasal sounding.

“We’ll see,” John says, walking away. Once she hears him heading downstairs, she looks to the boys—blue eyes wide.

“What the fuck are we gonna do? You haven’t worked with other hunters in ages,” she says, shaking her head; lost.

“I think we should hit up a hunter bar, see if anyone has a hunt they don’t mind us joining in on.” Bobby says, shrugging.

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea.” Dean agrees, smiling. An idea strikes her, a way to swing things in her direction—a way to have this situation back in her control.

“Great, let’s get going.” She says, nodding. “Which bar is closest?” She asks, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

…

Swinging her black mystical bat, thunder claps when she strikes a demon’s head. It falls to the ground, unconscious.

“Oh, come on ya bloke. I need this fun to last!” She shouts, scoffing. Around her, several other demons lie on the ground; unmoving. Shaking her head, she conceals her mystical bat, pulling out her curved blade. Grabbing a demon by his hair, she pulls his head back; revealing his neck. Suddenly, he grabs her hand, stopping her.

“Th-there’s still a human in here, you wouldn’t want to hurt it, now would you?” He says, laughing dryly—coughing, really. He coughs blood, some drops landing on her face. Slowly, her mouth forms a wicked smile as she shakes her head.

“I don’t give a damn, mate, I’m just looking for fun.” She says, laughing joyfully as she drives the knife into his heart. Pulling it out quickly, she heads over to the next demon, stabbing it as well.

…

As they walk into the seedy bar, she feels incredibly uncomfortable. Nearly every person in there is trained to kill her, it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. Some men are cleaning guns and knives on their tables, laughing amongst their buddies. John gets them all a booth, soon after they sit down, an older woman with greasy black hair comes to take their order.

“Hey, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Bobby. What can I get y’all?” The waitress asks, smiling.

“It’s good to see you, Gladys, I’ll have a bourbon chaser,” Bobby says, voice gruff and tired. Sam doesn’t order, so John orders for Dean and himself.

“We’ll have a whiskey, two fingers.” John says, and the waitress jots it down, nodding.

“And you?” Gladys asks, pointing to her with a pen.

 “Um, do you have baijiu?” She asks, unsure. Everyone raises a brow, and Gladys scoffs at her a little.

“Yeah, we got it. Are you sure you can handle that, hon?” Gladys asks, smiling amusedly. Narrowing her gaze, she nods once.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She says, and the woman nods, walking away to get their order. John laughs, shaking his head.

“Being drunk on the job isn’t good, but alright.” John says, brown eyes amused… annoying. She finds everything about John annoying; irritating. 

“What the plan, boys?” Bobby asks, pulling off his hat; scratching his balding head.

“I think we should just ask a random hunter, it couldn’t go too bad.” Dean says, shrugging a bit. Gladys comes back quickly, setting down her tray and handing off everyone’s drink. On a whim, she pulls $7 out of her pocket, tipping Gladys.

“Do you know of any hunts happening tonight?” She asks, blue eyes curious. Gladys tucks the money in her apron pocket, smiling.

“David over there plans on killing a werewolf tonight, and Gavin’s gonna break up a witch ritual later.” She says, happily sharing information.

“Thank you,” Castielle says, satisfied with these leads. “Do you think they could use some help?” She presses, raising a brow.

“Um, well, David has a bum knee. So, chasing a werewolf isn’t gonna be easy,” Gladys says, shrugging.

“That’s real helpful, thanks, Glady.” Bobby says, flashing her a toothy smile and sipping his bourbon. She smiles in return, walking away— subtly swinging her hips as she goes.

“Nice going, Cas.” Dean says, flashing her his special smile. She shrugs, looking away. Picking up her drink, which is about four fingers, she tilts the glass back slowly as the cool drink slides down her throat with ease. There’s a slight burn, but nothing too serious. When she lowers her cup to the table, their eyes are on her.

“What? Liquor doesn’t affect me like it does you guys,” she says, shrugging. “Now, I’m gonna ask David about that werewolf, Sam why don’t you go talk to Gavin?” She says, nudging Dean out of her way so she can stand up. John watches after her as she heads over to David’s table, impressed.

“She, uh, she definitely has balls.” John says, sipping his whiskey.

“Yeah, she’s great.” Dean says, staring after her like a lovesick puppy. John watches this, apprehensive and a bit disgusted.

…

“So, how difficult do you think this hunt will be?” She asks with narrowed eyes, leaning close enough to David so that he can smell her expensive Ralph Lauren perfume, Romance. 

“Well… it’ll be dangerous, I might need help.” He says, lowering his eyes so he can look down her blouse. The man is obviously in his forties, and she looks no older than twenty—yet he’s making his interest clear as day.

“I’d really appreciate getting the experience under my belt, but my friends would have to come.” She says, making her voice as sultry as she can.

“Okay, I don’t mind. Bring em along, little lady. Be at this address by 7,” he says, smiling lopsidedly as he passes her a piece of paper with a poorly written address on it. Flashing her teeth, she looks over her shoulder—giving Dean a thumbs up. While Castielle is finishing up with David, Sam is practically begging Gavin to let him help.

“Please, man, I really need this. I feel rusty, I need to get back out there. Help me out!” He says, whipping out his puppy eyes. It takes Gavin—a fat ginger with a lumberjack beard—a minute, but eventually he breaks; nodding hesitantly.

“Fine! But you and your family, you better know your shit. Be ready by 11 tonight,” Gavin says, rolling his neck—cracking it aggressively.

“Thank you! You won’t regret this, I swear. Where should I be?” Sam asks, shaking Gavin’s hand gratefully. Gavin reaches into his pocket, pulling out a dirty napkin with a faded address on it. He takes it, laughing a bit. Smiling, he walks back to his table; happy with himself. Castielle sits down right after him, also appearing proud with a little smirk on her pretty face.

“So, I booked us a gig for 11. How bout you, Cas?” He asks, looking at the dark-haired woman—hopeful. It takes a lot to impress his father, two hunts in one night should do it.

“Well, we will be killing ourselves a werewolf by 7 tonight. Although, with a bit of magic, we can actually save it.” She says, garnering doubtful looks from the Winchester men.

“Never in all my years of hunting have I heard of saving a werewolf,” John says, scoffing. Bobby is hesitant to chime in, but he does.

“It could be done… by a powerful enough witch…” Bobby says, bottoming out his glass quickly to avoid eye contact.  

“I’m your girl,” she says, smiling. “I have a favor to ask you, gents.” She says, pulling to attention back to her.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, after we're done hunting, I’d like for all of you to come back to my coven.” She says, placing her interlocked fingers on the table.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” John asks, eyes narrowed and gaze heated. “Why would I willingly walk into the lion’s den?” He growls, scoffing.

“I believe you’ll be safe—”

“Safe? Safe?! You bitches are the ones that took my Mary, and you think I’ll be _safe_? You’re delusional,” John says, gripping his drink in his hand tightly.

“You are such a prejudiced and bitter old fool,” she says, scoffing. “Why you hold onto this hate and fervor for death until it consumes you, I do not know.” She says, shaking her head.

“I do not believe my boys are safe with you, I do not believe I would be safe with you. End of discussion.” John says, his voice filled with a familiar finality. Castielle’s blue eyes are filled with disappointment. Snapping her fingers, a bottle of JD appears on the table; she takes a deep swig straight from the bottle.

“Cas, babe, take it easy. I think his thoughts are justified, he has a shitty history with witches.” Dean says and she feels disgusted with how he naturally folds, becoming less of a man when he's face to face with his father.  

“Let’s go, we have a hunt to pursue.” She says, rising from the table so roughly, she nearly knocks it over. They stare at her, eyes wide.

“That girl is weird,” Bobby says, shaking his head.

…

As the sun sets, they pull up to McKennan Park. The car ride was beyond tense, yet he feels like things will only get worse from here. Maybe a hunt will relieve the stress that permeates the air.

“So, where’s David at?” Bobby asks, hopping out of the car with a shotgun in hand. She shrugs, stepping out of the car as well. John gets out as well, along with Sam and Dean.

“He’ll be here eventually, it’s nearly 7.” She says, taking in the sights around her. The park is gorgeous, with greenery and flowers all around her. The autumn air nips at her skin, but there’s a presence in the park that calls to her. She tries to ignore it. Dean and Sam are opening the trunk of the Impala, and then they open a hidden trunk that reveals several natural and supernatural weapons.

“I want you all to know, we’re hunting my way. We go in, we locate this prick and we shoot it.” John says, loading up a .45 with silver bullets. Rolling her eyes, she feels for this presence. It’s a human, yet it’s blood is tainted.

“I can feel what we’re going to hunt, it’s still a human.” She says, walking up to John. “You plan on killing a human?” She asks, eyes wide with confusion.

“Well, the job is tough like that. Get over it,” John says, cocking his gun. Scoffing, she shakes her head, sighing deeply.

“Hey, y’all!” David shouts, surprising her. “Glad y’all are here on time, the sun is practically set and I’m ready to hunt.” He says enthusiastically, smiling with a rifle in hand.

“We’re ready to go when you are,” Sam says, polite. Looking in the trunk of the Impala, she can’t find a weapon that she feels comfortable with. Dean pulls out his gun, his favorite Colt 1911 with the beautiful design on the handle.

“It’s already got silver bullets in it,” he says, rubbing her hand as he gives her the gun. Smiling, she puts it in the back of her pants.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” John says, leading them into the woods. The sun is completely gone, so now they depend on the moon for light. The sound of their boots crushing and snapping branches alerts the animals, but not the one they’re searching for. Her senses are heightened; she can hear and see everything beyond clearly.

“How exactly do you track—what the hell?” She whispers, touching a tree bark. Her fingers come away wet with blood, surprising her.

“It must be close, look at that.” Bobby says, pointing to the dead rabbit a few feet away. Walking closer to it, she sees that the rabbit’s chest has a gaping hole in it. From what she can tell, it’s heart is missing.

“Well, let’s follow the trail.” John says, pointing to the bloody fur on the ground. He follows with his gun in hand, a dramatic scowl set in place.

“Aim for the heart, kay babe?” Dean whispers and she nods, pulling her gun out. She can hear branches snapping in the distance, she can sense the animal. Suddenly there’s a ringing in her ear, and a pounding in her head. She tries to shake it off, ignore it. Her head snaps up quickly, hearing a crow in her ear but she sees it’s far above the trees. She can feel the sweat on her skin, can count each bead of liquid that rolls down her flesh without even seeing it. She twitches involuntarily, feeling her skin practically crawl. She can hear her own heartbeat, lub dub—lub dub—lub dub.

“What’s wrong, Cas?” Sam asks, resting a hand on her shoulder but she quickly shrugs it off. His voice sounds distorted, booming in her ears. She tries to focus her eyes, but instead of seeing one, she sees nearly a dozen Sam’s. She tries to walk it off, but she collapses to the ground.  

…

It’s All Hallows’ Eve, she can feel the spirits in the air; the life and death all around them. The veil between this world and the next is awfully thin, who knows what could happen tonight. As far as she’s concerned, only bad things can ensue. As she’s walking down the streets of Jericho, she sees so many fools running about, dressed in ridiculous costumes. Some are cheap, others are expensive—but each is as slutty as the last. Smiling, she looks to the full moon, bathing in its radiant and effervescent light.

"I think tonight is gonna be a _great_ night," she says, laughing as she looks to the sky.

…

“It’s here, god, it’s fucking here.” She groans, grabbing her stomach. Rolling over, she sits up on her hands and knees, panting.

“Cas, we-we gotta get out of here.” Dean whispers, tapping her on the back. She hears branches snap before she hears the growling—her head snaps up and she’s face to face with the beast. It’s snarling in her face, drool and blood dripping from its mouth. It’s crouching, this woman, with crazy gray eyes and short red hair is menacing like an animal. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye—it pounces.

“Ahh, fuck!” She screams, pushing the werewolf by her shoulders. It’s biting at her, but she’s keeping distance between its mouth and her neck. She wants to focus, but can’t _think_ through this fog.

“We can’t shoot it, it’s too close to you.” Dean growls, aiming his weapon. He can’t get a clear shot, so he must watch and wait. Slowly, Castielle is raising her legs, pressing her feet to the werewolf’s chest; putting more distance between them.

“Powers that be, guide me quick, clear my plagued mind of this sickness.” She whispers, looking to the moon for strength. Suddenly, her pupils dilate; only a sliver of blue left. Instantly, she kick’s it in the chest—launching it off her and into a tree. Rising to her feet swiftly, she pulls out her gun. She hadn’t wanted to kill this animal before, but now she’s pissed. Sam speaks up, stepping to her.

“Cas, wait, didn’t you want to save it or—”

“Back off!” She shouts, shoving him in the chest; forcing him to the ground. The beast runs to her—she shoots in the chest. The sound of the gunshot seems to echo, but before she can bask in the glory of her kill, she hears a rapidly beating heart nearing them.  

“I appreciate the help, but I don’t want to hunt with y’all again.” David says, looking at her with wide and worried eyes. She sees another werewolf behind him, quickly raising her gun at David.

“Cas, don’t shoot him. What’s wrong with—”

BANG, BANG! She shoots the male werewolf in the chest, David spins around to see it’s body—he immediately looks apologetic.

“You don’t have to worry, David, we won’t hunt with you again.” She says, walking off to the car. Everyone follows her, but John lingers.

“Make sure you take care of those bodies,” he says and David nods, turning back and heading into the forest once more. John hops in the driver’s seat, accelerating out of the park.

…

As they arrive at the next hunt, she can still feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She’s never hunted a werewolf before, but it seems like a hobby she might pick up. Gavin is waiting for them outside of a warehouse, he has a blade in his ankle holster and he’s putting a gun in the back of his pants.

“Good to see you Gavin, I hope we'll get this done quickly.” Sam says, shaking his hand firmly.

“Should be an easy job, it's only a few witches.” Gavin says, shrugging. She knows that if she must choose between those witches and these hunters, she’s choosing to save those girls. Suddenly, as they’re heading to the warehouse doors, John grabs Gavin by the back of his shirt—throwing him against his truck.

“Gavin, why don’t you stay here?” John asks, cocking his gun. “I think we’ve got this all under control,” he says, a cocky smile on his bearded face. They watch in silence as Gavin gives in, nodding and quickly hopping back in his truck. John catches up to them quickly, aiming his gun at the warehouse door. There're several colorful lights flashing inside, calling their attention.

“Dad, what the hell? This is _his_ hunt,” Sam says, scoffing. “We can’t just strong-arm him and that’s it.” He says, shaking his head.

“Sam, let’s just go.” Dean says, quietly pulling open the warehouse door. The sight that greets her is… shocking, in an awful way. There are three witches sitting in a circle, a pentagram blanket beneath them. A small cauldron is in the center of their blanket, they each sway to the sound of their humming and chanting. She can feel the dark magic, but before she can speak up—John has fired two shots in the air.

“Hey, ladies! I suggest you put down your wands and daggers, cause I wouldn’t want to shoot ya for a misunderstanding.” John says, chuckling darkly. Bobby, Sam, and Dean have their weapons aimed at the women.

“Hello, I’d hope we would have enough time to bask in the glory of our spell.” One of the women—an Asian—says, smiling.

“You are abusing your gifts; you give us all a bad name!” Castielle shouts, body shaking with rage. Her fists are clenched by her side; she can barely stay in place.

“We can use this magic however we decide, you stuck up bitch.” A blonde says, standing up abruptly.

“No, you cannot. This isn’t your power to—”

“Hey, I know you. Heh, you’re that uber-bitch. You think you’re some kind of savior, huh?” The third one—a redhead—says, rising to her feet with the other two.

“Sit. Down. I’m gonna destroy your shit and we’re gonna go,” Bobby says, cocking his shotgun. The Asian woman smiles, kicking over the cauldron. The room is pitch black now, they can only hear a hushed chuckle.

“It doesn’t matter, we already completed it.” The Asian woman says, chuckling. BANG! A flash of light and suddenly someone’s groaning. Bobby shot her in the stomach. She falls to her knees, cradling her abdomen.

“No!” The redhead screams, waving her hand and throwing Bobby across the room. Dean shoots at her—another flash of light—hitting her in the shoulder but missing her chest. The blonde takes on John, dodging each bullet until she gets her hands on the gun—firing off a shot by mistake. Another flash of light, they can see her ripping it from his hand and snapping it in half.

“Leave him alone!” Sam yells, firing at her and hitting her right in the stomach.

…

There’s so much noise, so many sounds around her. She collapses to her knees, grabbing the sides of her head.

“M-Mother, Diana, I pray to you. Please, I need you.” She whispers, rocking back and forth on the concrete floor. She rises to her feet unsteady, able to see through tunnel vision. She can see Dean and Sam attacking the redhead, fist fighting. Bobby is putting his gun to the Asian woman’s head, ready to kill her. John is on his back, being punched in the face by the blonde. Slowly, she stumbles over to John; pulling the blonde off him by the hair.

“Ah! You bitch, how can you assist these lower creatures?!” The blonde screams and in the blink of an eye, she pulls out a long and rigged silver dagger—stabbing Castielle deeply in the abdomen; in the solar plexus. Suddenly, blinding light is radiating from her skin; illuminating the entire warehouse.

“Jesus,” Bobby whispers, overwhelmed. Sam covers his mouth with bloody hands, shaking his head in denial. She gasps wetly, mouth slowly filling with blood. The witch lets go of the dagger, allowing Castielle to fall to her knees.   

“No!” Dean screams, running over to Castielle. He catches her by the back of the head, slowing lowering her deadweight to the floor.

“Hmm, some High Priestess she is.” The blonde witch says, smiling. A few tears roll from the corner of Castielle’s eyes as she gasps.

“D-Dean,” she whispers, blood drops on her chapped lips. “I can’t—it hurts!” She cries out, touching the dagger with a weak hand that soon falls limp.

“Please, just hang on. Just-just wait, I’ll call somebody.” He says, nodding jerkily; emphatically.

“Son, there’s no use.” John says, joining Dean on his knees. “That blade… it’s gonna kill her one way or another. I’m so sorry,” he whispers and finally Dean’s tears fall.

“I don’t want to die,” she whispers, blue eyes locked with his green ones. “If I must, let it be in your arms.” She says slowly and nods, slowly maneuvering her until she’s partly in his lap with his arm draped over her breasts.

“I love you,” he whispers, rubbing her hair with his bloody hands. Her blood is spilling over, pooling around her.

“I-I love you… too…” she sighs, breathing her last.

…

_She feels a pang in her heart, quite a painful jerk in her chest. She can’t explain it, but she falls over as the pain intensifies. She’s on her knees in the grass, near her pond she created._

_“Ahhh!” She shrieks, falling over and into the pond. As she sinks to the bottom, water is absorbed through her nose; burning. Gasping for breath, she reaches for the blurry bright sky above her; helpless. She’s floating, weightless, to the bottom of this pond that doesn’t seem to end. All around her is completely black as if there’s only water on this direct path down.  As she slowly rotates, she sees a bright light at what might be the bottom of this infinite obsidian abyss. Gradually, the water around her disappears and she begins to dry. Unexpectedly, her body is strung taught and unmoving.  Her silk dresses and robes burn away from her and from the feet up—black satin heels appear, and slowly a silky black dress covers her skin. Her hair grows out, curly and kinky. Blue genus Rosa’s form in her hands. Instantly, she realizes what this is. She’s wearing the outfit she was buried in, her favorite ensemble that she would put on for Cassy._

_“Oh, my god.” She gasps and suddenly—everything is dark._

…

It’s dark, she’s in a confined space. There are walls all around her, she feels claustrophobic instantly.

“H-help!” She rasps, coughing immediately after. Her throat is incredibly dry and when she realizes she can’t speak—she panics.

“Mm-mm, fuck!” She whispers, fidgeting around. Breathing heavily, she thinks of a prayer—any prayer, something for strength.

“Babd Catha, goddess of rebirth, I am reborn and need a helping hand. Restore my strength, I beg of you.” She prays and slowly but surely, she feels her gift return. Quickly, she punches her coffin. Groaning, she ignores the pain—punching again, and again, and again. Breathing heavily, she punches the top of her coffin once more and suddenly she hears wood begin to crack. And just like that—the ceiling of her coffin caves in; dirt dropping on her quickly.

“Ah, god!” She cries out, squeezing her eyes shut as tight as she can. She pulls herself out, bursting through the dirt. Gasping, she pants as she looks around—it’s night time, she pulls herself out of her grave completely. She recognizes the area immediately, seeing that she’s in Idaho. Her eyes fill with tears as the pain in her chest comes back, intense and clear.

“Castielle,” she whispers, running forward—disappearing instantly.

…

She isn’t prepared for this; she isn’t ready to see such an awful image. But here she is, watching like a fly on the wall as her raven-haired lover bleeds to death. Castielle is radiating light as she dies—oh my god, she’s dying as every High Priestess has before her; like the ethereal being they truly are. She understands what happened, sensing the dark magic from the three witches. With a thought—each witch turns to black powder. Balling her fists, she marches over to Castielle; each step leaving destroyed ground behind her; concrete cracking beneath her heels. She sees her killers, Dean and John Winchester, yet they don’t phase her—they mean _nothing_ in comparison.

“Holy fuck,” Dean whispers, looking up at her with teary eyes filled with terror and perplexity. She can’t help the bitter scowl that paints her face, but she’ll fix this—she has no choice.

“Give her to me,” she says, voice raspy but unshakable. Dean nods once, sniffling as he rests Castielle’s head on the ground. There’s barely a heartbeat left, but she doesn’t care. There will not be another hallowed spirit—not this eve.

“Meg?” She whispers brokenly, coughing tiredly. “I don’t—I don’t understand,” she whispers, tears rolling from her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was enjoyable, I rewrote the chapter like a hundred fucking times. I even got help from my brother--that's how perfect I wanted it to be. 
> 
> We're heading in a direction, I've got twists and turns planned. Shoutout to those of you who have stuck with me through this whole thing. Thank you so very much, I know it's not your average fanfiction, but that's because I want to turn it into a novel and this is like a dry run--a test, to see how the book will do. So, thank you all. 
> 
> P.S. Criminal is basically something I slap a chapter together for every so often, but I have a few new fantasies I want to put to paper, so we'll see how that works out.


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